


Shake Your Chains To Earth Like Dew

by Whatevergirl



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: For Newt, life felt like it had taken a long time to get to where he was.Unfortunately, he was in New York, where his creatures had escaped and there is something distinctly off-putting about Director Graves...And then Newt himself has a secret... one that he simply left too late to tell anyone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shelley's Masque of Anarchy (1819)
> 
> Rise, like lions after slumber  
> In unvanquishable number!  
> Shake you chains to earth like dew  
> Which in sleep had fallen on you:  
> Ye are many - they are few!
> 
> The ye and they have various options on who they are:  
> Many creatures in comparison with wizards,  
> Many ordinary folk in comparison with Grindelwald's followers,  
> Wizards to those actively wanting to do them harm,  
> Good to evil, perhaps.
> 
> Another note, a few birthdates have been slightly edited to match things up correctly. Newt is now slightly younger than he is in the film as I've given him a birthdate of April, 1900. Also, I've read somewhere that it was Newt lying about what happened with a jarvey that got him expelled, but it's slightly different in this story.  
> There will be vague mentions of mpreg along the line, because this story wasn't originally a serious one, but the story has changed as I wrote.
> 
> I've also used Latin translate on google in places when I couldn't find the words for a spell.
> 
> Rating may go up.

“Newt?” Leta’s soft voice permeated the bubble that Newt had been trapped in since he'd been dismissed from Professor Scrimgeour’s office. “Newt?”

He lifted his head enough to watch her stop and tuck her long skirt against the back of her knees as she crouched down. It was more habit than necessity, he mused blearily as he kept his gaze on her knees; there was no one around to trip over any trailing clothes. He was sat pressed against a corner in a corridor just down from the Headmaster’s office and he had no idea how long he’d been there. 

“Newt? What happened?” She reached out and raised his head further up, her pretty face filled with worry. “Is the headmaster going to owl my family?”

Newt took several deep breaths, his eyes shut as he fought to compose himself. “I got expelled.” He croaked out, his breath coming in pants again as he suppressed a fresh bout of tears. “I thought I’d get caned or something… not… not-”

“Newt.” Leta whispered, her hand tangling in his scruffy hair. “You said nothing?” 

He shook his head murmuring, “I promised.”

“Oh!” Leta’s own breathing hitched as she whispered, “Propriety can just...” and threw herself into his arms as her voice cracked.

Newt curled into his best friend, finally allowing tears to fall. “I have- have to come back tomorrow. They’re sending for someone from the ministry to come.” It was easier to speak with his face hidden, the slightly musky scent of the Slytherin dormitories clinging to Leta’s robes was more comforting than he cared to admit.

“What are you going to do?” She asked softly, her hand coming up to come through his hair as though he were one of the kneazles that lived in the forest. 

“Owl my brother.” He didn’t want Theseus getting word from Professor Scrimgeour that he had been expelled. Maybe he could word an explanation better himself. “I need to tell him what happened...”

“What are you going to say?” Leta had tensed up in his arms, but he simply pushed his face more firmly into her neck. 

“I’m going to tell him that the squid is no threat!” he growled, before his irritation caused him to pull back and glare at her. “I’ll tell the ministry the same thing! I’ll happily take credit for releasing him into the lake!”

“I feel bad you taking all the blame.” She said softly and he softened his gaze. “I was there too.”

“Credit, Leta. Credit.” He dropped his eyes and pulled himself up, wiping his face. “Anyway, they shouldn’t have been tormenting him so.”

Leta looped her arm through his as they hurried through the castle to the owlery. 

“So, what are you going to write?”

“The truth, as far as I may. Though I shall leave you out. I’ll tell him that during our winter visit, I found an infant cephalopod in a beck near Hogsmeade, that I brought it back to school and nursed it back to health, but when some others found I was keeping it in the old boathouse...” He stopped and glared out the open window, furious with himself again.

“It should have been safe.” Leta whispered, but the self-recrimination was evident in her own face. They’d agreed to keep the squid in the boathouse as it was typically only used at the start of the year. They must have been followed going down there. 

“I’ll tell him that I charmed the boathouse to stop him escaping, but when Devlin and his gang attacked him to teach me a lesson, he was unable to escape and attacked them in response, so I lifted the charm and asked the merfolk to keep an eye on the poor creature.”

“Will he believe that? You can’t swim.”

“I can cast a bubble-head charm, and I am learning. Professor Moffett is teaching… me… was…” He trailed off as he realised that the charms teacher would no longer be able to help him. 

“So they will be able to think you did this on your own?” Leta checked, her arms crossed over her chest as she faced him, looking oddly vulnerable. 

“Your family won’t know from me.” He promised earnestly.

She nodded her head and smiled weakly. “You’re the best, Newt. I always said Hufflepuffs are the best friends a girl could ever want.”

“You only say that because the rest of your house find you odd.” He joked back, but the words were automatic rather than genuinely amused and he collapsed to the floor to start his letter. “I feel sick.”

“You want a drink? Or do you want to talk about something else? Umm … Do you think you’ll end up in the war?” asked Leta as she settled next to him. It was usually a comfort that she lacked social grace too, but this time he wished she hadn’t spoken. He didn’t want to think about his future at the moment.

“I don’t know. They didn’t take my wand from me.” The two had researched the last few cases that people had been expelled for, as well as cases where people had been disciplined after another person had nearly died. The governors seemed to have been harsh in actually expelling him in comparison with the one other similar case there had been, but that had occurred nearly three hundred years ago. 

On the other hand, as he had said, he still had his wand. Other students that had been expelled had had their wand snapped as soon as they had been informed, to prevent any retaliation or desperate acts.

Maybe Leta was right, maybe he was going to have to go and fight. He could imagine being sick to his stomach at actually hurting people on a battlefield, but the idea seemed distant and farfetched. 

“You might be too young.” Leta suggested as Newt tried to explain how he’d been unable to leave the young, injured squid that had ended up in the beck so far inland. “You’ve only just turned sixteen and you haven’t sat you O.W.L.s yet. Maybe they’ll send you off to help in a way that won’t involve fighting.”

Newt didn’t reply, he was trying to think of a way to say the students had wanted to make him miserable without sounding like a weak child who was unable to stand up to bullies. Newt really didn’t care what other people thought of him, and he never had got the hang of social cues.

“You should mention that they always steam up.” Leta said as he frowned at the parchment. 

He rubbed at his nose and looked up, “You think?” He really didn’t want to sound pathetic.

She grinned at him, “I’ll vouch for you.” 

Newt snorted softly and went back to writing. Her need to seem like a proper pureblood was part of the problem; the fact that her family needed her to be the perfect child… she was supposed to be building relations with the other pureblood families, not hanging out with some Hufflepuff half-blood. 

Leta looked over at him and scowled, “I mean it. Take it fighting and don’t let those vile old guvnors say what happened.”

Newt signed off his letter and rolled it up, before standing and heading over to his owl, “I don’t think I’ll be here when you’ve finished sending this. Stay with Theseus until I come home?” 

She hooted and nipped him affectionately. “Good girl.” 

Eyes burning with tears that were once more welling up, Newt took her over to the window and watched as she left. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again, “Anyway, I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me?” In many ways, Leta was a taker. Their relationship very much revolved around what she wanted to do, but sometimes she didn’t always consider herself when things happened. It was this glimmer of humanity behind the bossy nature that had kept Newt around.

“You’re not going to have friends here anymore.” He turned to look at his only friend. “I don’t want to come back from the ministry to find you and Florence Flint have hexed each other into St. Mungo’s.”

“If I end up cursing that silly moo, it won’t be St. Mungo’s she ends up in.” she declared. “Now come on, you need to say goodbye to the centaurs.”

“Yes.” His shoulders dropped again as reality washed back in. “It took a long time to earn their trust and I don’t want to ruin everything by leaving. It would be terribly rude.”

“That’s the ticket. Who needs sleep anyway?”

***

“I get to work with dragons?!” Newt was unable to keep a sombre tone as he looked up at the ministry official. 

“This is not a reward, Master Scamander. You will be working with Ukrainian Ironbellies to keep them from joining the fighting. You are to help keep them subdued, and in the event that this is unmanageable, you are to help exterminate them. Am I understood?”

“Kill them? Humans bring war to their natural habitats and you want to kill them if they object to this?” Newt’s face flushed as he glared up at the man. 

“Minister Evermonde has passed legislation that forbids us from joining the war. We are attempting to keep the International Statute of Secrecy! Dragons are a problem and Ironbellies are hard to kill as it is!”

Newt startled, “That was actually passed?” He hadn’t expected that because so many wizards had gone off to join the muggles. There were only a few exclusive wizarding villages left in Britain so many witches and wizards had muggle friends and family. His own brother would be heading off to France soon. 

“I’m sure there will be those who ignore it, but we must do what we can, where it is appropriate. You are not of age in our world, Master Scamander, never mind the muggle one. You’re too young to fight.”

Newt stared out the window as he tried to think. “I…”

“You wouldn’t even be going to do anything for the ministry if Dumbledore and your brother hadn’t argued for it.” The man huffed, but Newt didn’t look back at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and listened. “We should have snapped your wand and sent you back to your parents, but Dumbledore insists you are good with animals and Theseus has sent several letters, despite the fact that the ministry hasn’t even told him of the decision to expel you yet.”

“I…”

“You have no qualifications, Master Scamander. You’d be wise to accept this post.”

Newt curled in on himself slightly, feeling the intense scowl upon him. “I understand.” He picked at the yellow thread on the hem of his robe. 

“Now, the house elves should have gathered your belongings and you’ve had ample time to say goodbye since you were informed of the governors’ decision.”

With that, the man snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared with Newt’s school case. 

“We’ll be flooing straight to the ministry.” He held out the powder for Newt.

Hand trembling, Newt took his case off the elf and whispered, “Thank you, Tilly.” Then he stepped forwards and took a handful. Casting a last glance around the office, he threw the powder into the flames.

***

“There we go, girl. Nice and easy.”

Newt shut his eyes as the dragon landed. His wand was in its holster and both hands were gripping the harness she wore. She knew what wands were for and wouldn’t allow anyone near her if they held one.

“You know, I think that rock might be a third egg.” Foley mused as Newt scrambled down. “It’s small, but she always makes sure it’s covered.”

Newt stepped back and pulled out his wand, “It’s half the size.” He argued, “Protego Totalum. Her other eggs are massive.”

“That one might be a runt? Two sickles!”

“Huh?” 

“Two sickles says it’s a runt!”

Newt pulled a face, but nodded anyway. Foley wasn’t put off by his terrible way with people, so Newt tended to agree to things anyway. Theseus had told him to at least pretend to get along with people when working closely with others in a dangerous environment. He’d found agreeing was the best way to do that.

“Shame you’re not old enough for fire whiskey, I usually use fingers of that in betting on stuff out here.” 

“I don’t like fire whiskey.” Newt muttered. He had liked the taste initially, but the burn that came afterwards was unpleasant. The other men out here had laughed at his gagging, but none of them were willing to risk wasting anymore on him if he didn’t enjoy it.

With a gentle sigh, he began to cleave the meat they had caught earlier. The dragons were only allowed to fly if they had a rider on their back, and they weren’t allowed out just to catch food. Not that a rider could do much more than concealment charms and nudging the dragons in a certain directions, but keeping them cooped up didn’t work either. 

Newt was often the one riding the dragons as they flew. He had been absolutely terrified of heights at first, but was at least adapting now. The dragons trusted him more than the other men working here, a combination of his age and his charm work in endearing them to himself. He was also the best at casting a flame freezing charm. 

“Here we are.” He murmured to the nesting female as he cast a feather-light charm on the barrel and brought her dinner over. “Good girl, just let me in close.”

As she shifted around, Newt tried to catch a glimpse of the rock that might be an egg. It was small, but it wasn’t the same dull grey as the rocks around. She settled over it again, and his view was cut off.

“Never mind.” He sighed as he tipped the barrel. “We’ll find out based on whether or not it hatches, huh?”

They couldn’t even get close when Newt had her out. She was too volatile to risk leaving their scent inside her nest. He turned and headed over to the next enclosure. This one was a male, recognisable from his smaller size and proportionately larger wingspan. They had two females in this camp and five males, but the females had to be kept as far apart as possible since they were both nesting. 

Really, in the year and a half since he had left Hogwarts, Newt had actually found life bearable. They had little to do with the war out here, the muggle-repellent charms working well and no one had bothered them. There were occasional rumours of wizards going missing from camps in the middle of nowhere, but these were little more than rumours. The disappearances were typically chalked up to desertion or a stray enemy. 

The male was twisting in his restraints, mouth wide to let out a roar that had been silenced. He had not fathered any of the eggs and so was forever fighting, desperate to show some dominance to the females. Newt simply levitated his dinner in, he wouldn’t bother getting close until he settled down. The next male was already sleeping, his handsome body curled as small as it could go, if he had been out in the mountains, it would be very easy to assume he was just a rock. 

The next three males were awake, but they were fairly calm. Two had already been out flying today and Newt would be taking the third out after his own supper. The other female hadn’t moved off her eggs for four days now. They were near hatching, so she wouldn’t likely leave any time soon. She needed to be there when they emerged to ensure they knew who their mother was. The young man grinned as she shifted to face him, allowing him a glimpse of the eggs. 

“Here we are, girl.” He said softly, picking up her barrel and heading into the enclosure. 

He was the only one allowed in the enclosure now, the others stressed her out too much. Dint had claimed she viewed Newt as a youngling, which was why he was near, but Newt didn’t care one way or the other. She was beautiful.

He’d loved to observe them in the wild; to see if the females were still as reluctant to leave their nests during this time and simply went hungry, or if they risked their eggs to gather enough food to keep their strength up. 

“Good girl.” He murmured as he backed away. “There we are.”

He watched her for a moment, before heading over to the tents near the centre of the camp. He had a fair bit to add to his journal.

***

A week later and Newt dreamed of being back with the dragons, watching the females breathe flame on their nests then settle on top. Unfortunately, it was no longer an option. Their camp had been taken in the night by wizards, and most of the Brits had been knocked out before they’d gotten around to defending themselves, Newt included. They weren’t there to fight, and hadn’t expected anyone to attack a site when dragons were being held there.

The men holding them were German, but they didn’t seem to be soldiers. The men appeared to be researchers, as the room the Brits were in had a large window in it, from which they were observed by different solemn looking men throughout the day. The men were not exactly cruel, each of the prisoners had a cot to sleep on, two meals a day, an hour of exercise and several methods of entertainment, which ranged from books to knitting; Newt was currently trying to work out how to make a scarf, but he’d never knitted anything before in his life and his companions weren’t much better.

All they had to do in return was drink the potions they were given. 

Newt did as he was told. He was uncomfortable enough with people watching him every hour of the day, he really didn’t want the added stress of arguing with people when he hadn’t heard them speak a word of English. 

It had been nearly a month since they arrived when their routine changed. They were moved to individual cells with no windows, and lumos was cast at random intervals, making it difficult to settle into a regular sleep pattern. Newt was being given an extra potion every other day and one of the researchers came in at unspecified times, waved with wand at the young man as he cast a non-verbal spell and then would leave again.

After another month of this, Newt was beginning to struggle with the isolation. He had never considered himself a people-orientated person, but whenever the door was opened, he could hear chatter and laughter… he could recognise English words in the babble. Worse than being alone was being alone and singled out. The thought that the other men he had worked with were happily chatting away to each other, were laughing when Newt hadn’t seen anyone other than his expressionless researcher in so long hurt.

His stomach began to develop cramps, and Newt couldn’t begin to guess the cause. Was it the potions? The spells? The paranoia? Was it something they were feeding him? Or was it simply his fickle emotions?

The young man soon refused to participate in what they wanted. He curled up on his bed, under the single blanket he had and refused the potions. He refused the food. He refused to show his face.

Instead of getting angry, the researcher brought another man in to speak with him. This man spoke English, but Newt still refused to look at anyone. 

“Come now, my boy.” The man’s eager voice hissed, with very little hint of a German accent as he spoke.

Newt didn’t care. He wasn’t going to roll over and show his belly like a trusting crup, but he wouldn’t open his eyes either. He tried to think about flying instead.

“Stand up and let me see. There are changes happening to you and I want to see what they are.”

Theseus used to take him flying, many years ago. He had faint memories of Theseus holding him as they hovered just above the ground, how strong and impressive his brother had seemed.

“No? We’ll see tomorrow then.” Footsteps, and then he was alone.

Keeping his mind away from what _changes_ might be occurring, Newt remembered trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team in his first year. He hadn’t flown badly, but he hadn’t gotten a place either. It had been his second year when he had been made a reserve chaser, then third year when he had been placed on the main team. Fourth year, he recalled, there had been an amazing second year by the name of Turner who had taken his place and Newt had gone back to the reserves.

Fifth year he had quit the team, determined to focus on his career. 

He fell asleep dreaming of being a healer; but the people who came to see him were all merged with creatures. Many had never seen the light of day, and when he took them to the window to allow them to see the sun, his mother had been sat upon a hippogriff that he didn’t recognise, lamenting the effort they had put into raising him. Disappointment had filled him, and his office began to flood, but his mother simply flew away as he drowned.

It had been a relief to wake up.

It wasn’t a relief when his cell door opened sometime later though, and a pale man stepped into the room. He had blond hair, and an intense stare that unnerved Newt. 

He stepped forwards and bobbed down by the bed, his back straight as he squatted down, “Feeling anymore talkative today, boy?” 

Newt glared at his hands; he may have been desperate for company, but this man rather well frightened him.

“No? If only you would help, then you could leave. I have set these men a task to do. If their purpose has been achieved, then there is no need for anyone to be here.”

Purpose? Newt lifted his head slightly, “What-?” but he cut himself off. He didn’t want to talk.

The man leaned in, a charming smile on his face, “It’s nothing evil, my boy.” He leaned out to brush Newt’s hair back from his face. The young man flinched. “Nothing bad.”

Newt shook his head and lifted his knees to hide his face.

“We are simply trying to create life. Fertility is something we wizards need to concern ourselves with.”

Newt couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. He didn’t want to hear this; and yet he wanted to know what had been done to him.

“Tell me, boy. You went to Hogwarts, yes? You are British and a fairly young wizard so you must know Dumbledore? Do you not think he would make such an effort to support the enemy if his own child was involved?”

The young man raised his head, perplexed by the other, “Professor Dumbledore doesn’t have any children.”

“Imagine if he did. Do you suppose he would love muggles so much if they posed a risk to his own child? Do you really think any witch or wizard would?” His voice had darkened with anger, his eyes wide as he rose to his knees and loomed over the prisoner.

The man had to be insane. Newt’s fought to keep a neutral expression on his face as he pressed back against the wall. He didn’t understand why they were talking about his school teachers, “No, please. Just… no!”

Newt shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself as the other stood; he ranted loudly about right and wrong and what was best for wizard kind; he asked Newt whether it was acceptable for wizards to hide for fear of muggles when they were so much more powerful; he complained that the statue of secrecy caused so many problems, and he snarled in anger when Newt didn’t agree; as his mood settled back down, he had an odd comment about needing to understand every inch of a subject to call yourself a master of it.

Thankfully, a harried looking man stuff his head into the cell and yelped in German at Newt’s captor; they both left in a rush and Newt pressed his face back into his knees, slowly beginning to relax.

A short while later, the door to Newt’s cell unclicked and it swung slowly open.

“Anyone in here?” The words were English, and the voice was familiar. “Hello?”

Newt didn’t lift his head. His mind drifted back to playing quidditch with his brother, learning to throw and catch without falling off.

“Merlin’s Beard! There’s someone in here. Guys, in this one!”

Hands touched Newt’s shoulder, but he continued to hide his face. That voice… he had to be dreaming.

“Come on, my friend. Still alive? Percy, in here.”

“He alive?” This man was American, the accent jarring enough for Newt to lift his head.

There was a gasp by his side, but Newt’s eyes were blurry from being pressed down so firmly.

“Newt?!” The English soldier threw his arms around him, but Newt flinched and hid his face again. “Newton? It’s me! Come on!”

“Back up a bit, Theseus.” The American spoke again, but he was closer this time. Newt lifted his head again to stare at the man. There was a kind smile on his face, and when he offered a hand, Newt allowed himself to be pulled up.

“Newton? Come on, little brother.” The concern in the other soldier’s voice made Newt flinch again, so he kept a grip on the American and stepped closer to him. “Newt?”

“Let’s just wait till we’re out of here. I’ll take him back to camp and you meet up with the others. See what was going on here.”

There was a reply, but Newt tuned it out. He was getting away. Relief made his knees weak and he stumbled into the man, who wrapped an arm around him before stepping to disapparate. 

***

When he stirred several hours later, Newt was in a camp of American wizards and he was still curled up on top of the man he’d been rescued by. As a warm hand rubbed slowly up and down his back, Newt watched as the one man in more traditional wizard robes stood awkwardly at the tent entrance. 

“Newt?” He sounded unsure as he took an awkward step forward.

Newt lifted his head in surprise, “Theseus? I thought you were a dream.”

“I… no. Is that why you only wanted Percy?”

“Percy?”

“Me.” The hand on his back stopped as the man spoke. “And it’s Percival, not Percy.”

Theseus couldn’t quite hide his smirk, “You’ve been with him all this time and you didn’t ask?” But Newt didn’t reply. Reality still only seemed to be returning in little shards. “Gather your strength, little brother… and your mind. I’ll be back soon enough. I have to owl the ministry.”

Newt had planned to ask his brother why he was in a camp full of Americans, but the hand had started rubbing again and he drifted back off to sleep.

***

“You needn’t worry, my dear boy. It’s all been arranged.” Albus Dumbledore was smiling down at Newt as he sat in one of the small offices at the Ministry for Magic. 

“I’ll be able to graduate?” He had no idea how this had come about, but he honestly didn’t care. “But… I didn’t even take O.W.L.s, never mind my N.E.W.T.s, sir.”

“You have gained some… leniency for your part in the war.” Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at him, but it was a little strained now.

Newt rubbed at his nose with his wrist before glancing briefly up at his former transfiguration teacher. He wanted to ask if his _part_ was his work with dragons or something to do with the madman who had experimented on him. He couldn’t work up the nerve to ask though, instead focussing on other important areas, “Do I have to go back to school? I would be graduating by now…”

“No, my boy, you would have evening classes to help you catch up, but you did excel at a number of your classes so I believe you are quite capable of doing this.”

Thoughts of Leta crossed his mind. They had written to each other regularly while he had been working with dragons, but then he had spent months in captivity and several more recovering; it was summer now, and his year group would be languishing about waiting to go home for the final time. “I’ve not had any time to prepare though, sir.”

“You won’t be sitting them now, Newton. You would work during the day and study on an evening. It would be less time studying than you would have had, but if the work you do is not overly taxing then you should be fine.” Dumbledore paused a moment, ducking his head to try and catch Newt’s eye, which he managed for a short moment. “If, at the end of say… two years, you feel you are not advanced enough, then I will support you in sitting your O.W.L.s, but I believe you can make the jump. You were more than ready for those exams before you were expelled.”

“Can… can I take time to think about it, sir? I don’t even have a job or anything sorted yet.” His brother had told him not to worry, but then he had then kept mum on what he was doing to help. 

“Owl your brother. You will be able to study while working the job he has lined up for you.”

“Yes sir.”

"And this book is for you, a bit of extra study over the summer. Working at the Ministry, I'm sure you understand what you need to do if you choose to pursue this particular branch of transfiguration."

"Yes sir!" But this time, there was definite enthusiasm in his voice.

***

“I’m sorry, Healer Parker, but you do not have any right to Quincy.” Newt was staring at the parchment in front of him as the healer ranted.

“That house elf should be mine! It came from my estate!” he concluded, glaring at the younger man.

“You signed him over to the Shafiq family, Healer Parker.” Newt began to mentally list the main ingredients of a shrinking solution, one of the potions he had struggled with when sitting the exam last week, in an effort to keep his calm; the abuse this ‘healer’ had put his house elf through both angered and sickened Newt. 

“He’s served my family for generations.”

“And you lost a card game and so lost your house elf in the process!” he snapped in response, scowling at the now crinkled parchment that he held. “I won’t help reverse a process when Quincy is happier where he is now. Mrs. Shafiq treats her house elves well.”

The healer spat on the floor before storming out and Newt folded his arms on his desk and hid his face in them.

“Knock knock, brother.” Theseus announced his entrance as he stepped inside. “How’s your research going?”

Newt sighed and lifted his head to smile wearily at the older man. “Slowly. I can’t wait to be finished with my exams.”

“I’ve been looking into things for you when I’ve been out the country. I’ve a few ideas for where you should go once you’ve exhausted the available books and notes on this island.”

“I might ask Mr. Worme his opinion. I think I want to go and actually look at the creatures in England before I go anywhere. I don’t want to just accept anything as fact without checking it. I was going to check in with a crup breeder near in Yorkshire and then north of there are some marshlands where I want to look into the trolls that reside up that way.”

Augustus Worme had commissioned Newt to write an up-to-date book about the magical creatures that reside throughout the world. He had come to the young man two years previous, when Newt had sent a forceful letter demanding to know why Obscurus Books didn’t have any current material that could be used when studying Care of Magical Creatures; it was easier to be forceful about things when you didn’t have to look them in the eye, and it had given him chance to think his words through before sending it. Even so, the man had requested a meeting, asked about Newt’s mother and then asked if he would like to be the one who wrote the current material. After agreeing that Newt could finish his exams first, he had given the young man all the information he had in his bookshop and Newt had set out collecting documents and accounts of creatures from around Great Britain during his admittedly rare free-time. 

However, Newt was now coming to the end of his N.E.W.T.s and Theseus was helping him prepare to travel through Europe and collect more material for his book. Unfortunately, his brother’s help mainly seemed to handing him permits to fill in and explaining the laws of each country in far more detail than Newt cared to hear. Still, maybe his most recent help would be something he could actually use.

“I have maps.” Theseus stated, which had to be in the stack of documents the man held to his chest. “I have shaded parts where you can expect to find if not the actual creature you are looking for in the region, then folklore and help in locating it.”

“Thank you.” Newt tried to look calm as he accepted the pile and knocked it into disarray as he searched for the aforementioned map. He quickly looked to Germany, looking for the Black Forest; he’d heard rumours about erklings out there and was looking forward to his chance to explore. 

“Do you have many exams left to sit?” His brother seemed intent on chatting now that he had delivered his information, sitting down in the chair opposite Newt. 

Newt’s attention barely strayed from the map, “Uhh... Herbology and… a pogrebin? I wonder what that is… and, um, charms.”

Theseus sighed softly, “Two left. At least they’re nothing that I have to worry about you failing then. I still need you to promise me that you’ll sleep though, or I’ll take these back until after your exams.”

Newt hummed in response, but he was looking through the rest of the parchment; it seemed his brother had sent someone out to gather written accounts of the different tales that were floating about in different countries. 

“Don’t forget you’ve still got a job here that you need to do for the rest of the day.” Theseus mentioned as he got to his feet. Newt didn’t answer, his attention on what he was reading. “Good day, little brother.”

***

Newt collapsed to his knees as he arrived in the harbour.

“Well, that was… huh, I didn’t expect that.”

“Never again!” snarled Alice, wrenching her arm from his grasp. He had grabbed her to disapparate when he had realised what they had been fighting. 

“But… we’re only in Wales, and it’s early afternoon. Don’t you find it curious that they are out and about now? Maybe we should find out.” He looked imploringly up at her, but flinched away at the ferociousness in her expression.

“No, Mister Scamander, I do not. I think we should go back to the ministry, make our report and allow the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures to take over.” She twisted on the spot and disappeared.

Newt followed.

“Vampires are beings, not beasts. The Beast Division cannot do anything to them.” He argued, hurrying after the woman, her clammy skin and slight tremble giving evidence to her fright.

“The aurors, then! Newton, they nearly killed us!” she roared, and Newt reminded himself that it was fear that fed her aggression. 

In his twenty three months in the Beast Division, Newt had found that there was a lot of paranoia, and an alarming willingness to kill anything they did not understand. “It’s not the beginning of a vampire uprising.”

“Merlin help me if you are about to start talking about expected behaviours and habitats, Mister Scamander. I have to go to Egypt with you next month to look into these underground rings that Gringotts think are being used to traffic animals and take trade from them. I can’t focus on my work when I’m trying to ignore the urge to stupefy you.”

Alice Nott was his partner in the Beast Division of the Ministry for Magic. She came from a pureblood family and resented having to work with Newt, whose father was a muggle. It probably didn’t help that he didn’t like to edit who he was to match who he was with; she found him highly annoying and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He could actually hear her grinding her teeth sometimes, most noticeably whenever he stopped to note things for his book; which meant that the next few months would be a real test of her patience. He’d never been to Africa before and he was looking forward to it immensely.

***

“Just put it out of its misery, Scamander!”

“He’s not dead! Come on, boy. Here we go. Shh… Shh…”

Newt stepped closer to the creature, his case still clasped tightly in his hand as Alice guarded the entrance.

“Merlin’s balls, Scamander! Get a move on!”

He crouched down and ducked his head, trying to look submissive while keeping eye contact. He had no idea what creature this ragged thing was, but he’d grown up with hippogriffs and when he didn’t know what to do, he always went back to what he had learnt first.

“All is well, my boy. I won’t leave you here.” He cooed gently, ignoring Alice’s claim that she’d leave them both soon enough. 

The bird leaned his head into Newt’s hand before allowing himself to be pulled into the case. Newt shut it quickly and got to his feet. They had to leave now.

“Got him, but he’s been so maltreated that I don’t even know what he is!” Newt told her as several men broke through their wards.

“You bastards!” cried Alice, flinging hexes at them. She was rough, but she did hate people who were so cruel to undeserving animals; it had kept the two civil throughout their partnership.

“Come on!” he grabbed her and they began to run. There was an anti-apparition ward in effect, so they couldn’t simply disappear. 

“Confringo!” She shouted before Newt swung the door to the room shut.

“Colloportus!” He said, twisting his wand in the hope that the locked door would slow them. “That way?”

There was a crack in the wall, but rather than hurrying through it and into the narrow passage, Alice pressed Newt up against the wall beside it while whispering, “Calamitatus.” Newt held still, feeling distinctly awkward and badly wishing he had once listened to Dumbledore when he had given him that transfiguration book. Now was not the time to do something that would get him arrested. He should have registered...

With the disillusionment charm cast, they slipped out of view; this meant that they went unnoticed by the men, who rushed quickly past.

“Now,” she murmured softly, still pressed close, “we get out of here, so straight to the boat and leave this place behind. You’d better have our documents safe in there because I think we should get a muggle ship.”

“Assuming Frank didn’t accidently ruin anything when he fell in, they should still be safe.”

“Frank?”

“I may not know what he is exactly, but he does rather need a name.” Newt flushed slightly, but stood his ground on this. His mind had done some panicked thinking while they had been hiding. 

“Let’s just go.”

***

“Tell me you didn’t bring one back with you, Scamander.”

“I didn’t bring one back with me.”

Alice put a hand over the parchment to stop him from writing. “If you have got a kappa in that case of yours, I will gut you.”

“I don’t have a kappa.” He repeated blandly, trying to think of how to phrase the method that Japanese wizards had developed to survive an encounter with the fascinating creature.

“Look me in the eye and say ‘I promise, Alice Nott, that I have not brought a monstrous creature back with us’. Say it now.”

“Of course I haven’t. And they aren’t monstrous; extremely difficult to handle and somewhat dangerous, yes. But not impossible.”

“That was too easy. What else have you got in there that I don’t know about?” She narrowed her eyes.

Occamy eggs, but none of them were hatched and wouldn’t be for at least another eighteen months. Their mother had been killed and they needed protecting so he kept his eyes down and lied, “Nothing new. I’m still busy trying to heal Frank. He’s definitely a Thunderbird, and I’m hoping that once the damage to his wings has fully healed then he’ll be able to fly again.”

“A Thunderbird?” The comment distracted her. “Wait, you’ve still got Frank? That nearly two years ago that we found him.”

“Sometimes, animals with long lives are slow to heal… and there was a lot of damage done to him. He can at least stand comfortably on both his legs now, but his wings seem to be resistant to my magic.”

“Is it just yours? Do you… want me to have a try?”

“I don’t have people in my case, sorry. Anyway I’m usually proficient enough at healing spells so there may simply be a natural resilience.” In the four years they had been working together, not once had Alice wanted to enter his case; he wasn’t going to shake things up now. He also had a pair of Streelers that she didn’t know about, several Billywigs that had entered of their own accord and a herd of Mooncalves. 

“So what’s this I hear about you putting in a whole year’s leave next spring?” She dropped down at her desk and pulled her lunch out of a drawer.

“Mr Worme is funding me to go travelling. Theseus is helping me compile a list of places to go.”

“For your book.” He’d never heard such disdain in a phrase, and wondered if he’d told her about it too often. 

“Yes. I’m going to finish with Arizona. I’ve heard Thunderbirds are native in that particular region, and hopefully he’ll be healed up enough by then.”

“In another two years? I bloody well hope so.” She scoffed, but then her face did something unfamiliar – it softened. “Make sure you come back in one piece. I’ve gotten used to you.”

Newt hid a smile. “Yes, well… I’m not going yet.” He resisted making a comment about pureblood and their ability to admit to friendships; he wasn’t confident that what they had was an actual friendship, and thinking about it made him miss Leta, who didn’t write back to him anymore.

***

“It’s fine, I’ve got you.” Newt whispered as he curled around the demiguise. 

There was an uproar from the tents nearby as they realised the cage was open, but Newt simply strengthened his charm work and petted the creature’s back comfortingly. 

Heavy footsteps thundered past, and Newt held his breath for a long moment before looking down into the calm eyes before him.

“Come on. We need to go.” But the creature stopped him stepping out. Another man crept along the grass, right in front of Newt. He held still again, body tense as his charm held up and the man’s eyes slipped over them; moments later, the two were walking side by side as they moved beyond the wards.

“Are you well enough for me to apparate us?” He was not sure how much these creatures understood, but he didn’t want to scare him. “Here. My case is in the town. You’ll be safe in there and I have plenty of food that I can give you.”

The demiguise held up his arms to be carried again, and Newt couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread over his face as he stepped forward and sent them both into the town. 

“Let’s get you some dinner.” He mumbled as he checked his wards and opened his case. 

The group that had been holding the creature had been clever; rather than killing the demiguise for his pelt straight away, they had been planning to find another one and mate them. Not that this one was in any state for mating at the moment; he was malnourished and there was a trembling that Newt wanted to look into as it could be from weakness and hunger, or it could be from an illness. 

Now, they had no demiguise and an unfortunate fire had ruined all the hard information they had had on anymore.

***

“Get rid of it.”

“Sir, they really aren’t violent creatures. It’s ju-”

“Do you know the embarrassment that thing has caused me? I’ll be lucky if the countess doesn’t discredit me amongst our peers for this.”

“He just can’t help himself. It’s in their nature.”

“I had the housekeeper put poison down to get rid of it, like I do any pest. Do you know what we found? A puddle of poison on the floor and the silver bowl had gone.”

“Yes, well… if the bowl was shiny then-”

“The only reason I haven’t blasted it apart with magic is that it’s so damned fast. Your brother told me you can help. Take it from here or I’ll get some real beasts in here to kill it for me.”

“I understand.”

***

“For you.” The aged man whispered, holding his cupped hands out to Newt.

“I am so sorry.” Newt croaked in response, hands grasping tightly at his elbows as he drew back. “I honestly thought… I am so sorry.”

“For you.” He insisted, nodding encouragingly as Newt dried his eyes and his nose on his sleeve.

He was given an egg-sized chrysalis, green in colour and covered in spikes. His eyes widened, “Is this?”

“Swooping Evil.” The answer was given in a hushed tone, respect for the dreadful beast evident in his tone. 

“Well, he’s going to have to change his diet.” Newt stated, before realising he’d spoken aloud. “I mean, thank you.”

The man nodded calmly and they stood. 

“I… I’m sorry again about the girl. I wish… I’m so sorry.”

“We all learn with experience.” He said in a voice that was not unkind. 

Newt nodded, but he left soon after. While there was nothing left to say, Newt still stopped at the edge of the village. On his travels, he’d encountered so many different ways of life, but some places were almost beyond his understanding. This young child had such a complete denial of her magic that an obscurus had formed, and yet the next village over lived an old man who, while not a wizard himself, lived in harmony with the magic world, capable of using and accepting what parts of it he could, such as magical beasts.

It truly broke his heart.

Fighting for composure as he began to head west for Chad, Newt accepted the thought that neither of these creatures would be included in his book. He would make notes, but somethings were too painful to make public. He may have set out with the sole purpose of discovering creatures and understanding them, but that changed when the child had been involved. He wasn’t entirely sure what his purpose had changed to, but he was certain of one thing:

He had failed.

***

Of all his creatures, only Pickett had spent any time out the case on the way over to America. He was still claiming to be unwell and while Newt wasn’t convinced by his act, it was nice to have to company when surrounded by so many other people.

“Nearly there, Frank.” He mumbled as they approached New York. “Travelling over land is far quicker.”

It also interested him far more. The ship had not slowed down to allow Newt any chance to explore the oceans, and he still wasn’t a confident swimmer. One day though he hoped to get the chance to see what other creatures existed.

As a large number of passengers hurried over to see the Statue of Liberty, Newt noticed one of his latches open. No claws emerged as he pulled the case into his lap, and Newt leant over his case to soothe his demiguise, “Dougal, you settle down now, please. It won’t be long.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang Words 
> 
> Bunny - Someone who looks adorably lost
> 
> Fakeloo Artist - A Con Man
> 
> Mug - A dumb man
> 
> Rag-A-Muffin - A mucky / scruffy person

Mary Lou Barebone watched in silence as the children shuffled inside, her heart aching as she observed the trembling. There was no snow yet, but there was a definite bite to the wind that the children, garbed in their threadbare clothing struggled with. 

How could she not open the doors to them? To allow them off the streets for a while, to put warm food in their bellies and help strengthen them against both the physical world and the evil that corrupted it; it was a task that filled her with warmth. After all, did Isiah not say to give your own food to the hungry, and shelter to the homeless? Did he not state that in doing this your own darkness would become as bright as the noonday sun? 

Mary Lou held to that idea. She fed those who hungered, she had even taken some of the needy them in and given them shelter. She tried to see to their spiritual needs too, educating them on the evils of the world, on the witches who roamed their streets. The woman was no fool though and she was aware that many of the leaflets were dropped as soon as the children left the block, but she didn’t give up, nor did she stop feeding them. If she could get through to just one or two children, then surely it would be enough.

And she did need help, for Mary Lou had her own darkness, she hid it as best she could but she could not deny its existence; the anger that bubbled just below the surface, fed by the fear of what she knew was around her. 

Witchcraft!

The truth was that there were witches. Stories of them went back for centuries, and their existence likely went back further than that. Her great grandfather had been born in Boston and then raised there nearly a century after the Salem Witch Trials but he always spoke of the people of the area and of the memories they held of witchcraft. 

The most telling sign that you had encountered a witch was a memory loss. She had spoken to countless people in her youth, put real effort in finding out who had genuinely encountered magic and those who chose to lie for attention, for she did not want to accuse people of witchcraft if they were not an actual witch; to damage someone’s reputation simply to gain attention would be both false and cruel. 

But there were people who had gaps in their memories, there were those who had hidden from the evildoers and had seen these witches performing spells with their wands; the proof was there but it was difficult to get anyone to listen. It didn’t stop her from trying though.

She herself had encountered a witch a few weeks ago. She had no recollection of the incident, but she had no memory of that afternoon at all. She had returned home, ready to have a read and find inspiration for the next day, only to hear Modesty and Credence laughing upstairs. She had stood up to go find out what had them carrying on so improperly, but then she had been sat down at the table. The sun had been low in the sky and Credence was apologising for returning late as he came back in the door. 

She’d been so confused that she had simply let him head upstairs but that night she had been too frightened to sleep. She had heard of others describing this perplexing memory loss, but in comparison to those who had actually seen magic, it had always seemed mild. However, when she had gone up that evening, she had knelt down and prayed for forgiveness; for not knowing what had happened had to be worse. 

She didn’t know what had gone on; those witches could have done anything to her and she had no way of knowing what had happened. How many people did this happen to, who lost parts of their day but were not aware enough to question it? 

She had remained on her knees the whole night, praying for forgiveness and protection, and the next day she threw herself into her work with an edge of desperation. 

Now, she never missed a day. She would preach to anyone who would listen, even if there was only one person there noticing her. There were stories floating around of a demon, a shapeless darkness that left destruction in its wake, and it was her duty to warn people before it was too late.

“Don’t forget your leaflets.” Chastity gently reminded them, bringing a smile to Mary Lou’s face.

Chastity had been the first child she had adopted as her own, her original parents unfit to take care of themselves, never mind a babe. It had been a struggle, working out what she needed to do for the child, but her parish had been an endless pillar of strength. They had given her food, praise and advice while she had gotten her feet under her, and now with three children and a more outspoken voice than any other in the church, they still made her feel welcome on a Sunday. 

In return, she taught the Sunday school. She dedicated the Sabbath to helping the education of the children, in the hope that they would be able to find work for themselves. Her efforts were appreciated, and sometimes she struggled with pride when the children thanked her for her time. 

But the children were important and she would not see them disheartened by her own personal battle with darkness; instead she would stand and preach against witchcraft because these children were innocent and she wouldn’t let it bring them down. The thought of one of her children coming back and reporting a memory loss made her shudder and she quickly got to her feet.

“Ma?” Chastity was watching her, a curious tilt to her head.

Mary Lou pulled on her coat, fastening it as she turned to face the young woman and remind her of the day’s plan, “I’m going to speak at the bank today. Those who are caught in the dazzlin’ light of this age need to watch out for the darkness.” 

Chastity bowed her head, whispering, “The magic that’s tearing up the city.” 

Mary Lou nodded, but didn’t speak as she tugged on her hat and gloves. 

“I’ll make dinner for the children. I’m nearly finished with the next batch of leaflets.” She told her mother softly. Mary Lou couldn’t help turning to smile at the girl, the shining lights of New York had nothing on her girl, and she was ever hopeful that she would influence the other two. 

Not that Modesty was any bother, Mary Lou mused as she walked towards the bank. She didn’t smile as easily as her sister but she was a strong girl and once she had finished her education, she would probably have more confidence in speaking out than her sister. Chastity was gentle, soft spoken and didn’t like confrontation, whereas Modesty didn’t flinch when other children disagreed with her.

The girls were the joys of her life, both pure and wonderful. 

And how Mary Lou wished she could say the same for their brother. Her eyes flickered to the ruined house down one street; the work of a demon, though no one else seemed to acknowledge it. 

Credence. He was an awkward young man who liked to push his boundaries, with an interest in witchcraft that made her sick. The questions he asked… His mother had been a witch, Mary Lou was certain. There had been injuries that had healed too fast, the way people couldn’t keep track of her, her ability to head into a dead end alley and disappear. 

Mary Lou had confronted her, she’d pointed out to others what she was and people had noticed. It was more than a decade since a band of them had gone to confront her at her house, but she had ran into another room and once again disappeared. 

The woman had never returned, but she had left behind a young child, cowering under the table by the fire. Seeing two frightened eyes peering up had melted away the anger that had threatened to overwhelm, and she had taken the boy home. He’d been more of a struggle than Chastity, flinching often and it had been over a year before he had spoken a word. 

Mary Lou was a determined woman and though she never scared her son by telling him that his mother had been a witch, she kept a close eye on him. She worried that the woman would one day return for him, and so ordered him to keep to busy places and to be home before night, she made certain that he understood how evil magic was, and what happened to those who succumbed to it in their afterlives.

If he had magic in his blood, she would ensure he never used it. He would not become some evil, spell-flinging witch destined to Hell for eternity. She hoped it wasn’t pride that made her hang onto Credence, a false belief that she could stamp out such an evil. In Exodus, it stated that she should not permit a witch to live, and yet in the same book she was also called to not commit murder. 

She clung harder to the Ten Commandments than she did to the evil of witches, and acknowledged this as she saw the banner that Credence had headed out with that morning. As much as she hated witchcraft, the thought of murder made her nauseous and she was determined to do right by the boy. 

She stood tall on the steps and faced the streets, “You, out there! Surely you’ve noticed the going ons of recent times!”

A few people stopped to watch her, one or two with the ever present judgement that occurred when she spoke like this, but there were others who simply stopped to listen.

She looked earnestly out over them, “Surely you heard last night, of the demon that is ravaging our city? Of this modern evil that is wreaking havoc not in some far off land, but here and now, in this very city, not far from this bank!”

Another few stopped and she heard murmurs of agreement. 

“These journalists can dress it up however they like but a monster is still a monster and we cannot allow ourselves to become lazy in protecting ourselves from these things. Let us not be blind to the things that roam our streets, even if they scare us! How can we keep ourselves, our children safe if we wilfully turn our eyes away?!”

Several people moved on, realising that her message had already been spoken, and that their pride allowed them to ignore it. 

She took a deep breath before speaking again, she could not allow these things to occur without some resistance. “We’ve come far with all the contraptions and gadgets we’ve gained over recent years and this great city sparkles with the jewels of man’s invention! Movie theatres, automobiles, the wireless, electric lights; all dazzle and bewitch us!”

A small number of people trickled into the crowd before her, including a young man in a blue coat. His gentle expression and obvious curiosity reminded her of Chastity and she felt a need to protect this innocent that had lasted into adulthood, and to ensure he could continue to keep himself safe from others.

“But where there is light there is shadow, friend. Something is stalking our city, wreaking destruction and then disappearin’ without a trace.” She looked out over those gathered to listen, her expression imploring as she continued. “We have to fight! Join us, the Second Salemers, in our fight!”

There was a murmur through the crowd again, and some people were nodding their heads. Some were present at most of their meetings, having recognised the truth and needing to listen to give themselves the confidence to fight what was out there. Others, such as the young man in the blue coat, had clearly never encountered them before. It was upsetting that some in New York ad not yet heard their message. Nearby, she watched as her children arrived, the freshly typed leaflets clutched in their hands as they watched. 

She turned her most charming smile on the young man near the front, “You, friend! What drew you to our meeting today?”

He jumped slightly, “Oh, I was just… passing.” His accent was English, and Mary Lou quickly recognised her chance to have their message passed across the ocean.

“Are you a seeker? A seeker after truth?”

A smile twitched at his lips and he replied, “I’m more of a chaser, really.”

The way he struggled to make eye contact made her doubt the truth of his statement for a moment. Chasing the truth rather than seeking it implied a certain aggression to his actions, but she then wondered if he was an academic, and his chasing involved endless hunting through complex texts to find the truth.

She smiled at him again before turning her attention to the others in the crowd, not wanting them to lose interest, “Heed my words and heed my warning and laugh if you dare; witches live among us! We have to fight together for the sake of our children, for the sake of tomorrow!”

As her children were handing out leaflets to those gathered, she looked back at the young man, “What do you say to that, friend?”

He had a startled expression on his face again and he wasn’t looking at her, but she didn’t assume that he wasn’t listening. It was foolish to assume that you could only be heard by those looking at you and some people struggled with eye contact.

“Excuse me.” The young man suddenly hurried past her, up the steps of the bank.

Perhaps she had focussed too much on him; it seemed to have scared him off. Instead, she turned her attention back to those before her, “Witches live among us! They can hide and they can lie, but we know the truth!”

She smiled as she saw that her children had given leaflets to everyone present. People could be safe if they were simply educated enough to know what precautions to take.

***

Inside the bank, Jacob Kowalski was battling his nerves. It had been hard enough to summon the courage to send that first letter off to discuss getting a loan for a bakery and he had thought that he’d been lucky to even get a meeting… He took a deep breath and tried to refocus his mind on what he was going to say. He and Mildred would be fine if he could just prove to her that he could get this sorted.

Neither of them were exactly gay at the moment and it was proving a real hurdle. They both wanted to settle down and have a family but she had said no to even setting a date until he got out of the cannery; it wasn’t even the money. His lovely fiancée had explained that his inability to smile anymore was putting a real downer on their time together and that if they married then she wouldn’t want to inflict it on their future children. 

The added pressure wasn’t helping.

A young man dropped onto the bench next to him, head swivelling as he looked around. 

Small talk. That made time pass faster, and a bit of human connection to ease his nerves. He turned a little and asked, “Hi. What brings you here?”

The young man looked lost, as though he didn’t quite know how he’d gotten there, “Same thing as you…” he replied.

“You’re here to get a loan to open up a bakery?” 

“Yes.” He still seemed a bunny, unsure of where he was, but Jacob couldn’t help warming to him slightly.

“What are the odds of that?” He wondered, but he couldn’t hold it against the other man who was squirming next to him. “Well, may the best man win, I guess.”

“Excuse me.”

Nerves must have gotten the better of him as the guy ignored the hand that Jacob held out and ran off. However, in his place there lay a large, silver egg and Jacob quickly looked back up again, “Hey mister… Hey, mister!” but the other man had disappeared into the crowd.

Jacob reached out, picking the egg up. It was warm and smooth to touch, likely not the kind of thing you willing left lying around. 

“Hey, fella?” He called again, but the other had gone.

“Mr Kowalski?” A woman’s voice called out, “Mr Bingley will see you now.”

A fresh jolt of fear spread through Jacob and he forced himself up; the door seemed far away and the temperature of the room rose as though they were sat about in the middle of summer rather than December. He pocketed the egg and began to move, his palms clammy around this handle of his case. 

“Okay… Okay…” he whispered, clenching his fists to stop the trembling. He could do this. He was no Fakeloo artist, his stuff was the genuine article; good food worth investing in. He just needed to keep his cool and tell them that.

“Mr Kowalski.” The man before him really shouldn’t have seemed so intimidating but his posh suit and half-scowl made Jacob feel like a young boy in trouble with the schoolmaster for breaking a window again. 

He dropped heavily into his seat, trying to force a pleasant expression onto his face. “Mr Bingley. Umm… Here.” He quickly reached into his case and pulled out a file.

Mr Bingley raised his brow as Jacob spread them out on his desk.

“Okay, now… Umm, I was thinking a nice little shop, you know… cute front with _Kowalski_ written on it, for the women who are doing the shopping. On the windows, I mean. Mildred suggested it.” His eyes flicked up briefly to the unimpressed face before he ploughed on. “But, for colours, I was thinking sort of blues and greys and yellows. And I know I filled out your business proposal forms and the financial summary forms but I was… thinking…”

He trailed off as he caught Mr Bingley’s eyes again, his confidence dying. The silence seemed to last a long time though and he felt more and more uncomfortable, his mind rushing to numerous worst-case scenarios. There was an odd noise… and he glanced down at the egg in his pocket; several small cracks were spreading out.

Jacob thought of the English guy who had dropped the egg. He hoped Mr Bingley didn’t give him such a hard time for his bakery, he already seemed to have a nervous disposition. 

“You’re currently working… in a canning factory?” The simple question already sounded judgemental.

Stomach clenching, Jacob looked up, “That’s the best I can do. I only got back in ’24.” Two years he’d had to show Mildred he could provide for their future family, and it felt like two years since he had last smiled.

“Got back?”

“From Europe, sir. Yeah, I was part of the Expeditionary Forces there…” He tried smiling as he mimed digging, hoping that Mr Bingley would lose his scowl. He didn’t.

“I see.” He replied, before looking seriously down at the papers on his desk again. 

There was a heavy sigh and Mr Bingley shook his head. Concerned, Jacob jumped straight into the next stage of the interview that he had prepared: the food. 

He lifted the case up and opened it for the man to see, “All right.”

“Mr Kowalski.”

Jacob hurried on, determined to say his piece, “You gotta try the paczki, okay? It’s my grandmother’s recipe, the orange zest… it’s…”

“Mr Kowalski, what do you propose to offer the bank as collateral?” Mr Bingley ignored the pastry as he looked at Jacob. 

“Collateral?”

“Collateral.” The man remained unimpressed as Jacob looked hopefully at his case. “There are machines now that can produce hundreds of doughnuts an hour…”

To even compare those mass produced things to anything he baked with love and his grandmother’s cookbook was an insult, but he could see his chance sliding further away and his future with Mildred with it, “I know, I know, but they’re nothing like what I can do!”

“The bank must be protected, Mr Kowalski. Good day to you.”

The bell rang out its knell and Jacob once more forced himself onto his feet. He wasn’t trembling so much anymore but he had started to sweat, his breath coming in short gasps as he stepped out the door and the finality of exiting the office set in. What was he supposed to do now? How could he go tell Mildred that he had failed? There was a noise from his pocket and he slipped his hand inside without looking. 

He had to go back to working in the factory. He felt as though all his dreams had been torn out. A miserable job and a miserable fiancée… that was his future.

A slight scratch jolted Jacob back to the present and he pulled the egg out from his pocket. The shards of silver shell were cracked and there was a soft noise coming from within. As he lifted his hand, he saw a familiar blue coat near the elevator and shouted, “Hey, Mr English guy? I think your egg is hatching!”

And not a moment later, his stomach was rolling and he had to lean back against the wall of the stairwell… Stairwell? But his attention was captured by the eccentric young man, a stick held in his mouth as he took the egg off Jacob; some strange kind of blue snake peaked though the shell and the joy in the other guy’s face was undeniable. He didn’t know much about English snakes, but this fella was clearly fond of them. 

“Excuse me?” he tried as the man headed down the stairs, and Jacob ducked as he saw Mr Bingley appear. “I was… over there. I was… over there?”

He wasn’t feeling great. Had he wandered over here without noticing? How had they gotten to the other side of the railings? He stared ahead blankly for a moment, watching the guy put the snake in his case. 

“Hello?” he called, hoping to get his attention.

It didn’t work, the English guy didn’t look away from the inside of his case, “No, everyone settle down. Stay. Dougal, don’t make me come in there!” The guy had to be crazy, but people did sometimes get strange about their pets… even if they had pet snakes, he supposed… which were kept in a case… when you visited the bank…

Maybe he was a troublemaker.

“Don’t make me come down there.” The man repeated as Jacob began to move closer. 

Jacob rallied himself to speak again, uncertain whether or not he really wanted the man’s attention, but uncomfortable with not speaking. 

“Absolutely not.” The man suddenly said, standing up. He pointed his stick at the vault. “Alohomora.”

There was a click, and Jacob stared in horror. Never mind a troublemaker, he seemed to have come across a bank robber!

“Oh, so you’re going to steal the money, huh?” 

Jacob turned to see Mr Bingley hit a button on the wall, before stiffening and falling backwards and the English guy muttered something behind him. His jaw dropped.

“Mr Bingley!” A glance backwards told Jacob that the vault was open and this held his attention better than the bank man hissing out his name. 

There was something inside the vault, a strange creature that resembled a mole sat in the mess and there was a question of, “Really?” before the English guy gabbed its hind legs and tipped it upside down with a firm “No.” 

He had to be in a dream… This couldn’t be real… But, the voice of the Second Salemer woman drifted across his mind “ _Witches live among us!_ ” and apparently they did… and he was here, with one…

Several armed guards entered the corridor and Jacob trembled with panic, “Oh no… no… Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot!”

But before he could say anything else they were outside. Fear overcame his need to vomit and Jacob pressed himself back against the wall with a yelp. 

“For the last time, you pilfering pest: paws off what doesn’t belong to you!” The guy stuffed the mole back into his case… alongside the snake… but something about his words settled Jacob’s mind slightly. He may be some crazy, English witch… but at least he wasn’t a bank robber as well.

“I’m awfully sorry about all that.” The guy started.

But Jacob interrupted, “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing that need concern you.” He replied as he stood up. “Now, unfortunately you have seen far too much, so if you wouldn’t mind… if you just stand there, this will be over in a jiffy.”

The young man started searching his coat for his stick- no, his wand, but Jacob refused to stand here and have magic used on him, no matter how polite the witch casting it was. Therefore, he grabbed his case and swung it at the young man, who dropped to the ground.

Jacob hesitated for a brief moment; he’d hit the guy’s head… He didn’t actually meant to hurt him, “Sorry.” But he wasn’t going to stick around, the guy was moving, so Jacob ran. In his haste, he didn’t see an annoyed young woman grab the fella’s arm with a firm tug.

***

Tina apparated them to an alleyway a fair distance from the bank before she rounded on the guy, “Who are you?” 

“I’m sorry?” The man pressed himself against the wall and gave her a puzzled look.

She glared at him, “Who are you?” she repeated, putting as much authority into her voice as she could. 

“Newt Scamander. And you are?”

 _Pissed off_ was the honest answer, but she avoided the question, “What’s that _thing_ in your case?”

“That’s my niffler.” There was a slight smile twitching at his lips as he answered, but he dropped his head for a moment at her scowl before pointing hesitantly at her face. “You’ve got something on your…”

She wasn’t going to be distracted though. He had quite blatantly broken the law, “Why in the name of Deliverance Dane did you let that thing loose?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Which really wasn’t an answer you wanted to give if you were trying to stay out of trouble. “He’s incorrigible, you see, anything shiny; he’s all over the place-”

“You didn’t mean to?” she growled, she almost preferred intentional troublemakers; those who got in trouble with the law due to idiocy or ignorance seriously vexed her. Coming to a foreign country with no real understanding of the law, or no real effort to keep it implied a lack of respect. 

“No.” He glanced up at her through his hair before dropping his eyes back to his case.

She couldn’t help herself, she let loose. Her frustration at something like this happening so near the Second Salemers bubbling over, “You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose!” she scalded, “We’re in the middle of a situation here! I’m taking you in.”

“You taking me where?”

She pulled out her ID and showed it to him. If people caught wind of the Salemers getting riled up then she was not taking the blame for it, not when it wasn’t her fault. “Magical Congress of the United States of America.”

Mr Scamander flinched as she spoke, huddling back against the wall again, “So, you work for MACUSA? What are you, some kind of investigator?”

“Uh-huh.” She replied, though the question hurt. It had been a blow to be dropped into Wand Permits, especially as before that she thought she had been earning Mr Graves’ respect. He’d even said ‘Well Done’ to her once. She put her card away as she listened to the bustle of the street. “Can you please tell me you took care of the No-Maj?”

“The what?”

“The No-Maj! No-magic! The non-wizard!” she half-yelled, her tense nerves once more threatening to overwhelm. 

“Oh sorry, we call them Muggles.” Scamander replied, failing to answer her question.

The evasion was decidedly concerning and the man was definitely starting to get on her back up, “You wiped his memory, right? The No-Maj with the case?”

“Umm…” 

She could have cried with the stress, this was supposed to be her lunch break where she was not supposed to be anywhere near Mary Lou Barebone. Hopefully they’d be distracted with the _niffler_ … “That’s a Section 3A, Mr Scamander. I’m taking you in.” 

She grabbed his arm and they disapparated to near the front of the Woolworth Building. She dragged him over as he objected, claiming he had a birthday present to buy; however she wasn’t interested, especially not when she realised he was one of the people keeping the breeders of illegal creatures in business. 

“Hey Goldstein.” 

Red looked up at her as she dragged Scamander into the elevator, even as he gaped around the main lobby. “Hey Red. Major Investigation Department.”

Red frowned slightly, “I thought you was-”

“Major Investigation Department!” She hissed at him, not wanting Scamander to realise that she had very little authority anymore. “I got a Section 3A!”

Red gave her a curious glance, then sent one up to Scamander but he didn’t say anything else and used his stick to hit the button above his head.

The ride down and their subsequent walk through to the main floor in this Department was done in silence, Scamander barely managing to raise his head and Tina faking confidence as she tried to think of something to say to Mr Graves. 

The voices filtered down the corridor as Tina led Scamander along; they were discussing the disturbances and the dark cloud that had been sighted as it tore through the No-Maj neighbourhoods. She forced herself to keep a steady pace though, needing to look confident and professional as she tried to explain that a No-Maj had gotten away.

There was a moment of silence before, “I made your position here quite clear, Miss Goldstein.” Madam Picquery didn’t even let her get a word out before glaring.

Tina glanced at the man beside her before looking back at the woman. This was important and she had to try, “Yes, Madam President, but I-”

“You are no longer an auror.”

The words still hurt, even though it had been weeks since her demotion, “No, Madam President, but-”

“Goldstein.” Picquery’s firm voice cut through Tina’s nervous attempts.

“There’s been a minor incident-” she said in a rush, but Picquery’s expression did not change.

“Well, this office is currently concerned with very major incidents. Get out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned and led Scamander away, feeling utterly humiliated. To be refused so completely when she had with her someone who had broken the law… Thankfully Scamander wasn’t commenting on her blatant lack of authority here. He simply followed along behind her, though judging from his expression he was at least a little perplexed as to the situation.

She couldn’t blame him, she mused as she stepped into the elevator and they went down again; the situation here had become very confusing of late. It seemed Graves was doing a real good clean-up of the auror department and was getting rid of anyone who didn’t meet his expectations… excluding Hollands and Livingstone, who had somehow kept their jobs despite being two of the most unobservant aurors Tina had ever come across. Maybe Graves thought that their heads were empty enough to retrain them without any great difficulty. 

She knew it was bitter of her, but Tina didn’t much care. She had to fill out forms and endless paperwork while Hollands, who lived in his head so much that he was accident prone, got to go out into the city and _do_ something. 

“So, have you got your wand permit?” She asked Scamander, holding her head high and trying to look more important than she felt. “All foreigners have to have them in New York.”

“I made a postal application weeks ago.” He replied, eyes flicking up to hers briefly and she resisted the urge to grimace. With all the upheaval in MACUSA, which originated with the changes by Graves, they only seemed to have about half the mail that they were supposed to have received. 

She grabbed a clipboard and began to make notes on the strange man before her. “Scamander… and you were just in Equatorial Guinea?” 

“I’ve just completed a year in the field.” He replied softly, still barely managing to meet her eyes. “I’m writing a book about magical creatures.”

It sounded dull, but her own interest lay in people. She decided to keep him talking though, to see if he really was a trouble maker or not; there was something about him that made her suspicious, “Like an extermination guide?”

He looked affronted at her question and scowled at her, “No! A guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them.”

Something in her chest eased at these words and his genuine irritation; maybe this guy really was just an awkward rag-a-muffin with no real idea how to talk to people, wizard or No-Maj alike. 

“Goldstein? Where is she? Where is she? Goldstein?” Tina ducked behind her desk with the speed that may have indicated an approaching hex; Abernathy was a self-important mug who honestly seemed to do more posturing than actual work. She could deal with him personally (and hiding behind her desk today was absolutely a one off), but he was smitten with Queenie and no matter how polite he was to her in person, she didn’t like his attitude towards her sister and she couldn’t see him in a positive light because of it.

“Goldstein!” 

She could see his polished shoes on the other side of her desk, tapping the ground as he waited. They look out of place in the dusty surroundings, especially next to Scamander’s well-worn boots. 

“Did you just butt in on the Investigative Team again?” He asked shortly as she pulled herself up. “Where’ve you been?”

“What?” She looked awkwardly down, not knowing what to say. She _had_ gone out for her lunch… but she was supposed to avoid the New Salem Philanthropic Society entirely. 

“Where’d she pick you up?” Abernathy clearly didn’t want to wait and he rounded on Scamander.

Scamander jumped slightly and gave him a startled look, “Me?” then his eyes flitted over to Tina as she desperately tried to ask him to keep quiet with just a look. He hesitated then dropped his eyes and hunched his shoulders as he held his tongue. 

With another scowl, Abernathy turned back to Tina, “Have you been tracking them Second Salemers again?”

“Of course not, sir.” Tina responded in as honest a voice as she could manage, feeling glad that Abernathy never could tell when people were lying to him. 

Abernathy’s scowl deepened but before he could continue the conversation his expression changed to a far more pleasant arrangement as Director Graves entered the office. Relief flooded through her as she supposed he was coming to hear what she had to say; the President may not care but Graves must have been curious about the minor incident that had led her to that office. He was looking Scamander up and down with an odd look on his face, with only a hint of the curiosity that she had expected visible.

“Afternoon, ah… Abernathy.” Graves’ attention went back to Scamander for a moment as Tina screwed up her courage.

If she could just explain that Scamander, while not intentionally, had briefly lost control of an animal which had resulted in a slight breach of the Statute of Secrecy, then perhaps they would overlook the fact that she had been watching the Barebone family again.

“Mr Graves, sir. This is Mr Scamander.” Her words tumbled out as she stepped forward, “He has a crazy creature in that case and it got out and caused mayhem in a bank, sir.”

“Let’s see the little guy.”

Graves’ acceptance was an utter relief, no questions about why she had been in a bank, but an interest in what actually mattered… not that Scamander seemed to agree, his eyes wide with panic as Tina picked up his case and placed it on the desk. 

Dismay shot through her as she stared down at the pastries… there was only one reason Scamander would have a case full of pastries, and that would be because that muggle had a case with a troublesome creature in it. 

“Tina…” Graves walked off, smirking but Tina’s eyes lifted to meet Scamander’s; they had to find that No-Maj. 

“Wasted enough time now? Are you going to get on with work?” Abernathy couldn’t tell her off when Graves made the decision not to, but he wasn’t going to let her slack off. 

Tina sighed and picked up the clipboard again. 

“An Appaloosa Puffskein, you said?”

***

Gellert would have very much liked a chance to speak to Mr Scamander himself, he noted as he headed back to his office with deliberate pace; the name rang a bell in the back of his mind and he wanted to know why. Unfortunately, his hour was nearly up and there was a flask upstairs that he needed to drink from.

Scamander…

There was a hippogriff breeder in England by the name of Scamander, but that connection didn’t slot comfortably into place, even if the young man was grubby enough to work in a stable. 

That face… He was sure he had seen it before… He stalked over to his office and sent an internal request off for information on the Scamander family. Impersonating the Head of Magical Security certainly had its perks, even if it did mean he had to smile at every inferior being that crossed his path and keep them blissfully ignorant. 

Rather than sitting and waiting, Gellert picked up the report from the previous night. There was nothing new on it, but he couldn’t suppress the anticipation that bubbled up within him as he looked at it; the evidence that there was an obscurus in New York City, and a powerful one at that. 

He had considered taking the obscurus to Europe and releasing it there; he had originally suggested defying the Statute of Secrecy many years ago over there, but had been rejected. The thought of forcing the exposure to muggles was tempting… and yet something had made him shy away from that plan.

Sometimes, he tried to convince himself that it was simply easier to start the war here, where the Obscurial resided; however there were times that a voice deep inside could be heard. It shouted one name at him, the reason he wanted a war on this side of the ocean:

Albus Dumbledore. 

Albus… It had been many years since he had seen the man. The wizard ran a hand over his head as his thoughts drifted to a handsome face and the haunting blue eyes that sparkled out of it; the first thing about him that Gellert had ever noticed all those years ago. 

Albus’ mind was a thing of wonder and Gellert had gotten to know it before they had even met; when he’d been a young man himself, his great-aunt Bathilda had told him to write to a local boy who had still attended Hogwarts at the time. Gellert, who had been angry with his expulsion from Durmstrang and the abandonment of those who had called him friend while there, had taken out his frustrations to this unseen person, pouring his honest, sixteen year old feelings onto the paper to Hogwarts’ Head Boy.

He hadn’t expected a reply. He’d skulked around Godric’s Hollow, anger still frothing within him when an owl had landed on Ignotus Peverell’s tombstone and held out its leg; the response had changed his life. Not in any immediate way, but Albus had asked what it was about life and death that had fascinated him enough to get expelled; it had been a chance to open up, to dump his interest in the Deathly Hallows onto someone else.

He’d explained that while he hadn’t killed any person, he had been trying to look into the tale of the three brothers and making an effort to understand death. He’d noted that he had done experiments, but these had been on animals, not people; he wanted to be the master of Death and he believed that obtaining the Hallows would allow him to live until he was prepared for death. 

Albus had agreed. He had noted that while in the stories the Cloak of Invisibility had allowed the youngest brother to hide from Death, choosing to hide for the rest of your life would be selfish and wasteful. If you had never-ending life, surely it is your responsibility to bring about change, from start to finish, that would ensure the betterment of life for all?

Gellert had found the idea fascinating; he’d never thought so far ahead to wonder what he would do with life if he wouldn’t die. He’d always gotten stuck on obtaining eternal life, but Albus had had further reaching vision, and their discussions had blossomed; Gellert had been half-way in love with Albus before he had even met the other boy and when they did eventually meet in the aftermath of his mother’s death, Gellert had fallen entirely. 

He had known from the moment that he had looked into those blue eyes that he had wanted the other by his side for the rest of his life, and that that must surely be the purpose of the other Hallows to ensure one mastered Death. The Elder Wand to fight off any rivals or foes, the stone with the power to recall the dead that would allow the master to keep another at his side, and the Cloak of Invisibility to remain hidden from Death’s view; while alone the brothers had been defeated, it had been together that they had bested Death in the first place, and the power needed to be kept together to be truly effective.

Albus had come up with one idea after another, stunning Gellert with his thoughts and he had never scorned Gellert for his attempts to understand Death in a more real sense of the word. It had been Albus who had noted that certain actions needed to be taken for the Greater Good, and so years later, Gellert hadn’t hesitated to experiment again, moving onto human subjects. He was not arrogant enough to assume that he could master Death and not understand every part of it, and he knew that life was intricately entwined in death. Surely two ideas were opposite sides of the same coin; to create life, and stop Death. 

But their friendship, their slow courtship had been halted by Aberforth Dumbledore. That had been hard enough, but what that idiotic child had done had been far worse. Albus’ brilliance could have been a metaphor for an obscurus, trapped inside and battered down by his burden of a family. The boy was forever owling Albus to come and sit by his sister, telling him to take responsibility. What Aberforth hadn’t understood was that he had been stifling a spark that could have truly advanced wizard kind; their hiding could have been over decades ago. Albus’ attention had turned from mastering Death and working out how to run an all-inclusive society, muggles and wizards in the same world.

Initially, Albus’ sister hadn’t made too much of an impact on him. She had been an annoyance, a reason for Albus to leave on an evening before Gellert had been prepared to say Goodnight. He hadn’t wanted to share his friend, had wanted to keep Albus to himself and now Gellert could admit that this was still true. However, he’d had nothing against the girl, had even seen her as part of the reason that Albus objected to the Statute of Secrecy – the catalyst for Albus understanding how this decree was hazardous. 

But the stupid boy had ruined what they’d had; always there, complaining about his brother’s distraction and whinging when he didn’t get his own way… The selfish little twit, too childish to understand the desire for romance, the pull that the two had felt. Gellert had been unable to control himself, lashing out and cursing the fool as he had nagged his brother… He could still feeling the flutter of the older boy’s breath across his lips as they had prepared to take another step, less that a moment away when a grating voice had permeated the air around them…

And the girl had died. He didn’t know whose curse had hit her, his own or one of the Dumbledore brothers’, but he had fled. The authorities still hadn’t entirely decided what to do with him when they had sent him to his aunt, he wasn’t even supposed to have had a wand, and then Ariana had died. He would be branded either evil or unstable, and would be locked up. 

The knowledge that Albus would never look on him with such longing in those beautiful blue eyes again… 

Gellert shut his eyes and scrambled quickly for his polyjuice potion, needing the vile flavour to distract himself from the pang in his chest; Albus was the only thing that affected him so and Gellert was determined to continue on with their plans to reveal the wizarding world to muggles, even though the older man had changed his mind in the grief and guilt from his sister’s death.

There was a faint pop, and a flurry of paper mice scuttled across his desk. 

Scamander… Time to discover who he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Newt lay with his eyes shut as he tried to steady his breathing; he could hear the murmurings of the women as they pottered about just beyond the door and he wanted to look as though he was asleep when one of them inevitably stuck their head into the back parlour. The girls had given their own beds to the men, and the privacy that came with an actual room while they insisted on transfiguring to sleep on in the main living space. In the bed adjacent to his own, Jacob was reading an old Scintilla novel but he seemed to be enjoying it, based on the little laughs that occasionally escaped. 

However, Newt had other things to focus on; firstly, he was late to feed and medicate various creatures and several of them would be getting anxious by now; secondly, he needed to figure out which creatures where missing; thirdly and fourthly consisted of finding the creatures and then getting them back into his case again… Some had been difficult in the first place and he was almost dreading going to have a look and see what had gotten out… other than the Niffler who had no doubt taken the chance to go hunting again.

And he probably ought to make something up for Jacob too, the man wasn’t complaining but Murtlap bites weren’t comfortable even for wizards and the muggle certainly had had a bit of a reaction. He had some tablets made from Billywig venom which was a highly effective painkiller, it had actually been a rather enjoyable venture in working out the ratios for those pills as he’d spent many evenings giggling to himself… he hadn’t destroyed all the of the higher dosage ones as they were an easier solution to some of the painfully stressful situation he got into than a cheering charm, but his brother had kicked up an absolute fuss when he claimed Newt was using them as an alternative way to get soused; Newt hadn’t exactly been able to object, but he honestly only used them when things got so bad that he couldn’t sleep… however, they would work well at the same time as any other medication so Jacob could try one of them.

He’d also give Jacob one of the tablets made from Horklump tentacles and Flobberworm mucus; he hadn’t found any use for the Horklumps yet, but they surely had to be something they were useful for, some reason he could give people to not extinguish them completely. He did have a couple of tablets left that he had made from Salamander blood though, and that would likely help. Salamander blood was a wonderful cure for many things, even if it was an absolute bugger to extract while keeping the Salamander alive… 

As he lay waiting for the interruption, he wistfully imagined heading to India and finding a Phoenix; he’d heard stories of their beauty and desperately wanted to see one for himself. However, he also half didn’t want to. He’d been gifted with Gubraithian Fire by an aged witch in the Irish Free State back in June (well, gifted or bribed into leaving… he’d annoyed more than a few important people there), but he had honestly humbled by the gift. He’d set up a small space for this behind his shed and now he could keep Salamanders without worrying about maintaining the flame that they lived in. Still, he wondered sometimes if having such a curative substance about made him lazy in his experiments to develop cures using ingredients that many wizarding households would be able to obtain and surely if he had phoenix tears available, his studies would take a back step. 

He had a plan for an additional chapter in his book about cures; many wizards put up with certain ailments because Healers and Mediwizards didn’t seem to use any potion, spell or cream if it hadn’t been around for at least three hundred years! He wanted to add a chapter about alternative treatments that he’d developed that could improve people’s lives! If everyone could just about how useful creatures could be, then maybe they would think twice about killing off everything that didn’t do exactly as it had been told! He’d sent a draft of the chapter to his brother before he’d gotten on the ship over here though, and his brother had replied that maybe a chapter about How Animals Can Help People ought to focus more on helping people than nagging about the animals; Newt was still stubbornly refusing to reply to that, even though he knew his brother meant it in an honest, helpful way.

There was a hesitant knock and Newt heard the door to their room open. Tina’s voice was equally uncertain when she uttered, “I thought you might like a hot drink?” Newt held still though, still feigning sleep as she placed a cup loudly on the table beside him.

“Hey, Mr Scamander?” Jacob was oddly endearing, his friendly attitude not at all diminished by Newt’s inability to act like other people. “Look, cocoa!”

Tina let out a huff of irritation, “Toilet’s down the hall to the right.” She stated, but left after Jacob was the only one to utter any thanks. 

He jumped up as soon as she was gone. Tina wouldn’t be back now; Newt had heard the words “Let him stew overnight on it” enough times to know how people reacted to him, and they nearly always found he wasn’t worth the effort of coming back to again. 

He opened his case and hurried in, more than ready to get on with his evening. He was half way down the ladder when he realised there were no sounds of anyone following him. He went back up slightly and stretched to beckon Jacob over… a few moments later and he repeated his gesture with a call of, “Come on.” When he heard movement, he continued down.

He frowned as he looked at his shelves; he knew where the Salamander pills were, and the Horklump ones, but he honestly couldn’t remember where the Billywig venom tablets had gotten too; he had taken his brother seriously and pushed them out of immediate view when Theseus had worried about him getting addicted to them.

“For the love of…” came a muffled grunt behind him, but Newt kept his back turned. His case wasn’t particularly large on the outside, but as the Erumpent could fit in then Jacob would definitely have no trouble. 

A loud crash told him this was true and Newt glanced over at the kind man. “Will you sit down?” He asked, trying and failing to smile reassuringly.

“That’s good.” Jacob said, and Newt’s eyes flickered up again to see the man looking curiously about. 

As Jacob settled on a crate of pellets, Newt leaned over to have a quick look at his neck; it would need something more immediate than a pill to relieve the symptoms. 

“Ah, that’s definitely the Murtlap. You must be particularly susceptible.” Murtlap essence was actually a soothing essence, which was probably why Jacob wasn’t scratching and itching the rash that had been left behind, but there would likely be some about of pain deeper down as the teeth had actually taken some flesh away. “See, you’re a muggle. So our physiologies are subtly different.”

He placed some dried Shrivelfig leaves in a mortar and crushed them with a pestle as he spoke, remembering to try and keep his voice cheerful as he spoke, before reaching for some Bubotuber pus. He only needed to relieve the most immediate symptoms with this poultice so he made a paste and quickly applied it to the man’s neck, not wanting to remain in his personal space for too long. 

“Oww…” the other man groaned as the pressure likely brought the pain back.

Newt paid him no mind and he grabbed the different tablets, including a Billywig venom one as he spoke with a firm, “Now stay still. Now that should stop the sweating,” Then he handed the pills over, “and one of those should sort the twitch.” He hoped the Horklump one would; he was determined to find a use.

Unfortunate bystander sorted, Newt turned his attention to supper. He relaxed as he removed the preservation charm from the carcass to feed the Graphorns, the familiarity of the actions helping to get his mind off the strange day that he had had. As he chopped it up and tossed pieces into the bucket, Newt’s mind drifted to his Swooping Evil.

It would be a good idea to extract the venom before he went to feed the others, while it was still settled enough to remain calm during the process. He’d found that Swooping Evil was far more docile when its venom was extracted on a regular basis, and he honestly suspected that the venom was painful to the creature itself. When he had first suspected this, it had seemed a bizarre part of evolution that any creature would store up something that would hurt itself, but recently he’d been considering another angle; he wondered if the pain from the venom was similar to hunger pangs that he felt when he forgot to eat… simply a reminder that food needed to be consumed. 

With the venom removed each day, the Swooping Evil seemed to thrive on the alternate food source that Newt provided. From what he could tell, it was as well-nourished as it would be if it lived in the wild, and it had a far better disposition. It had been a struggle as he had been told they ate memories and others told him that they ate brains, but it turned out the food was actually the nutrients absorbed from the actual brain and from there it had been a matter of working out the proportions. 

He passed the bucket of meat to Jacob with an absent-minded, “Take that.” Before picking up an empty vial and Swooping Evil’s chrysalis to extract the venom.

“Come on…” he coaxed gently as he squeezed it, wriggling the tips of his fingers slightly.

He heard Jacob step forwards before asking, “What you got there?” 

Newt couldn’t quite help smiling. For a muggle who would supposedly want to wage war on any witch or wizard he encountered, Jacob had an honest curiosity to him. “Well this… the local call ‘Swooping Evil’; not the friendliest of names. It’s quite an agile fellow.” He let the cocoon hang for a moment. 

Jacob hovered uncertainly for a moment, but the interest hadn’t one from his face. While Newt had always regarded muggles more highly than American wizards did and had never doubted that each was individual which meant that their actions couldn’t be definitively predicted, he was still surprised; even wizards tended to lose interest in what he was saying before long. His paternal grandparents were both muggles and they had never been able to pretend to care about the creatures he’d found during his childhood. 

“I’ve been studying him.” Newt decided to go into more detail, but he stuck to information that Jacob might care about. Personally, he found the way that they didn’t settle into a gender until adulthood to be a fascinating point, but he hadn’t come across anyone else who did. People tended to be more selfish and only hold an interest in anything that may be applicable to themselves. “And I’m pretty sure that his venom could be quite useful if properly diluted. Just to remove bad memories, you know.”

He didn’t risk boring Jacob by explaining that he was the only test subject he had for trying out the different concoctions he made. He would be careful not to dump too much information on someone who could be his friend; that usually alienated them and meant they sidled off. It wasn’t intentional, but Newt often got carried away, his enthusiasm difficult to curb when he got talking about his creatures. 

Plus, he had lost a fair number of his memories to the Swooping Evil venom. He could remember looking after dragons in the war, but that was only a vague memory and whatever had happened after that had gone entirely. He hadn’t asked his brother about it though, unwilling to subject himself to the scolding that would inevitably follow if Theseus found out what he had done. He hadn’t lost much from the years after the war as even the boring years hadn’t been filled with bad memories. Before the war… well, he’d lost chunks of what had happened in school; some of it may have been to the venom, other bits to the natural memory loss that occurred over time but he could only remember a few bits. 

His friendship with Leta was there, any struggles they may have had now wiped out. He wondered if something had happened though. He’d sent an owl to Leta a month ago, asking how she was and hoping to glean back some of the information that he had lost. She’d sent one back, but it had lacked any real familiarity; he’d not sensed any bitterness in her words as she informed him of the birth of her nephew and how her courtship to Felix Avery was likely to end in marriage… but no comments on what she thought of it. The words had been friendly, but they had lacked friendship and Newt had realised that they must have drifted apart at some point. 

It made sense really; his remaining memories didn’t contain Leta at all, but it had hurt nonetheless to note that his one friendship had apparently ebbed away. Looking down, Newt refused to stew in those thoughts for long; the pain was still there but he had other things to focus on… such as the Swooping Evil. He pressed his fingers against the chrysalis for a moment before flicking his wrist and letting Jacob see it, both showing it off and hoping to glean some amusement from the man’s reaction.

Jacob gasped and jumped back a little, startled but not actually frightened. Newt couldn’t help the grin that bubbled up as he murmured, “Probably shouldn’t let him loose in here though.” 

The smile didn’t fade as he headed through his shed into the main body of his case; it was fantastic to find someone so accepting… perhaps ignorance really was a blessing if it resulted in a mind as open as Jacob’s. 

“Come on.” He called as he listened for footsteps behind him, but his attention quickly turned to Frank, who had gotten himself worked up.

Pulling out his wand to form an umbrella, Newt quickly hurried over, “Come on… come on…” he coaxed the Thunderbird, “Down you come…. Come on…”

Frank settled, landing and allowing Newt close as the rain stopped; he happily ate the grubs offered as Newt stroked him, warmth filling him as he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at seeing the Thunderbird though. “Oh, thank Paracelsus. If you’d gotten out that could have been quite catastrophic.” Frank pushed his head against Newt’s hand, returning the affection as the wizard glanced over to the muggle. “You see, he’s the real reason I came to America; to bring Frank home.”

Attention fully on the creature, he didn’t notice Jacob stepping forward until Frank began to react. “No, sorry. Stay there. He’s a wee bit sensitive to strangers. Here you are… Here you are…” He petted Frank again, calming him down. “He was trafficked, you see. I found him in Egypt, he was all chained up. Couldn’t leave him there, had to bring him back. I’m going to put you back where you belong, aren’t I, Frank? To the wilds of Arizona!”

He looked up at the Thunderbird, beaming happily as he imagined Frank flying through the actual sky as opposed to being confined to this case. His charm work was decent, but Frank hadn’t flown freely since he had been caught. His healing had been slow and while the leg wasn’t fully recovered yet, it didn’t actually hinder the creature anymore. Newt knew it would hurt to let this friend go, but the thought of Frank being where he ought to be filled Newt with eager anticipation; Frank would suffer if he never had his freedom and Newt had never intended to keep him. Frank was ready.

The Thunderbird flapped his wings and pulled up into the sky, making Newt grin widely. It had been a slow journey, but it had been worth every second, the wizard decided as he stepped back… each of his creatures were worth the effort, whether others realised it or not. No beast; human or animal, ought to be judged on what it could give to others. Worthiness of existence ought to be a simple fact, not a decision based on the values of society. 

He turned away and cupped his hands up to his mouth, letting out a loud roar as he headed off towards the Graphorns. He grabbed the bucket before calling out again and smiling slightly, relieved to find these had not escaped either, “Ah, here they come.” 

“Here who comes?” Jacob had followed after him again, still not put off enough to retreat to the shed.

“The Graphorns.” Newt replied, before grabbing the muggle’s arm to stop him from running. So few people got to see these, it would be a shame if the man missed them. “You’re all right. You’re all right.”

He glanced at Jacob as he moved to greet the pair, smiling fondly at them as their tentacles embraced him.

“So, they’re the last breeding pair in existence.” Newt explained, failing to mention the hunt he had had to try and find even a hint of another pair… the desperate search for more. “If I hadn’t rescued them, that could have been the end of Grapghorns… for ever.”

He watched as the pair’s youngest calf approached Jacob, clearly curious at the person Newt had brought with him. This one had been born in his case and had no concept of danger… it was utterly oblivious to the threat that others could pose, hunted as Graphorns were; their hide was thicker than any breed of dragon that Newt had encountered, and their horns were useful in antidotes, but there were far too many who couldn’t wait for the creatures to die without human intervention. And hunting seemed to be a uniting feature of the human race, a sickening interest in killing the most dangerous creatures possible and then displaying some trophy to show their own prowess… the beasts that existed inside people were loathsome than creature Newt had ever encountered. 

He grinned as Jacob reached down to stroke her head. “All right.” He murmured as he turned his attention to actually feeding them, throwing chunks of meat into the enclosure. 

“So, what? You… You rescue these creatures?” The muggle’s voice held no disgust, just an honest curiosity at something new.

“Yes, that’s right. Rescue, nurture and protect them.” He released those who were able to leave, such as the Porlock he had encountered in Ireland; it had been injured and skittish, but Newt had managed to win it over and the horse-guardian had remained with him for nearly two months until it had healed. Others would never be released, in particular certain creatures that had been born in his case and didn’t have enough innate knowledge to defend themselves in the wild, having missed out on that vital period of learning. “And I’m gently trying to educate my fellow wizards about them.”

It had been Theseus who insisted his education of others needed to be gentle. He’d noted that his little brother had two styles: a slightly awkward, earnest style where teaching was slow but people actually listened; and a far more forward style where he dumped too much information on others as he allowed his passion for creatures to emerge. Theseus often told him to stick to the slower version of giving information, as the latter tended to put people off entirely. 

Newt frowned for a moment before clearing his head and considering Jacob… He was a good man and Newt was surprised to find that he really did trust him. “Come on.” He said, leading the other over to the bamboo wood. “Titus? Finn? Poppy, Marlow, Tom?”

They headed over to the tree he had acquired for his Bowtruckles, Jacob making a fair bit of noise behind him as he crunched through the enclosure. Pickett came willingly out from Newt’s pocket, happy to look around from another vantage point.

“He had a cold, he needed some body-warmth.”

“Aww.” Jacob’s face split into a large grin which Newt couldn’t help returning. 

The clan scampered out to meet them as they headed over, but Pickett couldn’t be tempted to join them as Newt fixed him with a stern expression. “Right, on you hop.” But the Bowtruckle refused to budge. “He has some attachment issues.”

Jacob didn’t try interfering but he looked down at Pickett, clearly still interested in what was going on. 

“Now, come on, Pickett. Pickett. No, they’re not going to bully you. Now, come on. Pickett.” The Bowtruckle was now clinging to his fingers and Newt felt his resolve disappear. “All right. But that is exactly why they accuse me of favouritism.” 

With the small creature on his shoulder, Newt turned his attention to other creatures that may have gone missing. The Diricrawls were popping about and he’d seen both the Fwooper and the Nundu. The Billywig numbered seemed fewer, but Newt didn’t mind too much. Muggles didn’t tend to notice them and they had entered his case of their own accord. The Doxies would need their medicine soon and he’d need to check that neither Runespoor had budged. The Mooncalves and Occamies weren’t terribly likely to have gotten out, but the Erumpent had; she didn’t really have anywhere to hide in her enclosure, so Newt was certain that she had gone. The Niffler was an absolutely bugger and the wizard already anticipated finding his nest empty. 

 

“I wonder where Dougal’s gone.” He murmured as he looked around. He’d hopefully stuck near to one of the other creatures, having very little interest in actually getting away from Newt; he supposed Dougal had simply wanted some fresh air and a look around, and would then find another creature to wait with once he’d had his fill. The chirping from the Occamy nest distracted him from his musing though. “All right, I’m coming… I’m coming. Mum’s here. Mum’s here.”

He hurried over, affection flooding him as he looked down and counted five. The eggs were mostly pushed deeper into the nest, but Newt wasn’t going to disturb the others by pulling them out to count. Instead, he looked down at his newest Occamy, “Ah, hello you. Let me take a look at you.”

Jacob approached the nest with a slight smile on his face. “I know these guys.” 

Newt grinned. “New Occamy. Your Occamy.” He held it out, happily watching as understanding spread over Jacob’s face.

“What do you mean? My Occamy?” The muggle looked down at the creature which had hatched earlier that day with wonder in his eyes.

“Yes. Do you want to…?” He held it out, wanting to watch the man’s expression as he experienced this.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, sure.” Jacob took the Occamy, a nervous expression on his face. “Okay, ah ha.” He shifted it before reached out to pet it. 

The Occamy nipped at him and Newt quickly spoke up, “Ah, no. Sorry; don’t pet them. They learn to defend themselves early. See, their shells are made of silver so they’re incredibly valuable.”

As Newt leaned over to feed the others, he heard Jacob murmur in agreement. “Their nests tend to get ransacked by hunters.” He explained, but managing to resist starting his complaints about the problems that hunters caused. 

“Thank you.” Jacob said softly as Newt took the Occamy back and placed it back in the nest with a bug of its own. “Mr Scamander?”

“Call me Newt.” The wizard said, having decided that he did rather like this man. A novel thought had just occurred that perhaps he could have a new friend. 

“Newt… I don’t think I’m dreaming.” 

“What gave it away?” he managed not to chuckle, but his amusement crept into his voice all the same. 

“I ain’t got the brains to make this up.” The humility almost didn’t surprise Newt, who was beginning to accept that there really was someone else who had the potential to really care about the creatures that were Newt’s whole life. 

The notion that Jacob found his case more wonderful than anything he could imagine was flattering.

“Actually, would you mind throwing some of those pellets in with the Mooncalves over there?”

“Yeah, sure.” And Jacob began to help with the actual work, not hint of reluctance to be seen. 

He pointed, “Just over there.” And watched as the man headed off.

Grabbing his wheelbarrow and setting off further, Newt sighed in resignation as he looked out, “Bugger. The Niffler’s gone. Of course he has, little bugger; any chance to get his hands on something shiny.”

He scattered feed for the Diricrawls and some mice for the Fwooper. Jonas was going to need seeing to though, his medicine was overdue as well. He removed the preservation charm from the bottle and picked Jonas up, humming softly as the tentacles curled about him.

“There you go, cutie.” He could hear Jacob saying as he fed the Mooncalves.

Newt turned with a smile on his face as he headed back to the pond that Jonas liked to rest by, his bottle nearly empty already and the creature starting to sag with tiredness. One last gentle stroke and Newt headed off to look for Jacob.

The mooncalves were happily trotting about on their own and Newt noticed one of the canvases had come loose. He headed over and startled badly.

“Step back!” he called as Jacob approached the Obscurus, one hand reaching out. “Step back.”

“What’s the matter with this?” The muggle asked, but he wasn’t moving.

“I said step away.” He hadn’t had the chance to study it yet, but he wasn’t going to allow the force to kill anyone else. He’d failed that little girl enough without continuing it on after her death.

His tone more serious now, Jacob asked, “What the Hell is this thing?” 

To which Newt replied, “It’s an Obscurus.” But that really didn’t cover what it was, nor the devastation that it could cause; not that the other creatures were incapable of causing horrors themselves or of being on the receiving end of them. “I need to get going, find everyone who’s escaped before they get hurt.”

“Before _they_ get hurt?” Jacob questioned, but Newt accepted the question was borne from ignorance.

“Yes, Mr Kowalski. See, they’re currently in alien terrain, surrounded by millions of the most vicious creatures on the planet… humans.” And it was vital that he rescued them again. “So, where would you say that a medium-sized creature that likes broad open plains, trees, waterholes, that kind of thing; where might she go?”

Jacob gave him a sceptical look, “In New York City?”

“Yes.” He replied earnestly. 

“Plains.” The man frowned as he considered Newt’s question, then he shrugged. “Ah, Central Park?”

“And where is that exactly?” He rather hoped to get these animals back tonight. He had the Erumpent to fetch, the Demiguise and, of course, the bloody Niffler; it would be quite enough to keep him going till morning. 

“Where is Central Park?” Jacob’s face twisted into a disbelieving expression but Newt waited. He wasn’t from New York and this jungle had paths that looped around or led to dead ends. “Well look, I would come and show you but don’t you think it’s kind of a double cross? The girls take us in, they make us hot cocoa…”

Newt forced himself to look straight at the other man, trying to make him see reason, “You do realise that when they see you’ve stopped sweating, they’ll Obliviate you in a heartbeat?”

“What does ‘Bliviate mean?” 

“It’ll be like you wake up and all memory of magic is gone.” Newt didn’t bother to gentle his tone any, the spell was going to be cast eventually anyway.

The hurt shone in Jacob’s eyes for a moment as he looked around. “I won’t remember any of this?”

“No.”

“All right, yeah.” The man was nodding his head, a determined expression showing. “Okay, I’ll help you.”

“Come on then.” Newt grabbed a bucket and sent him off to feed the woodland creatures as he went to cleave some meat for the older Runespoor, the younger still small enough to feed off mice and rats.

He didn’t bother to clean the enclosures as properly as he usually did, dismissing maintenance for haste with a mental promise to do it later. Soon enough though, he had disapparated down to street level, Jacob crouched on the ground as he tried not to vomit. 

“Which way then?” Newt asked cheerfully as Jacob pulled himself up with a groan, eager to go and find his creatures.

The man sighed, rubbed a hand over his head before muttering, “Come on.” 

At night, New York was much more pleasant. There were very few people about and Newt could spot animals scurrying here and there. It was the Niffler that he was keeping an eye out for, the Erumpent was hard to miss and Dougal was not likely to hide from him. 

“I was watching you at dinner.” He informed Jacob as they headed down yet another empty street. “People like you, don’t they, Mr Kowalski?”

Jacob startled as they hurried along, giving Newt a curious look, “Oh, well… I’m- I’m sure people like you too, huh?”

That was highly inaccurate, “No, not really. I annoy people.” He was capable of toning himself down when it mattered, but generally he didn’t feel the need to; he didn’t tend to encounter the same people very often and those he did come across frequently, such as ministry workers, would just have to deal with who he was.

“Ah.”

“Why did you decide to be a baker?” He asked, wondering if his passion was a lifelong thing, similar to Newt’s love of creatures. 

However, there was exasperation on Jacob’s face now, as though this was a question he had answered in one form or another often. “Ah well, um… because I’m dying in that canning factory. Everyone’s dying there. It just crushes the life outta you. You like canned food?”

“No.” He’d never tried canned food. There was a vegetable patch in his case and mixed with is charm work and so he’d never needed to try it.

“Me either. That’s why I make pastries, you know. It makes people happy. We’re going this way.”

Newt rather liked his answer. His own focus was on keeping his creatures happy, but he found he didn’t mind. “So, did you get your loan?”

“Er, no. I ain’t got no collateral. Stayed in the army too long, apparently. I don’t know.” 

“What, you fought in the war?” The wizard asked before remembering that not everyone liked to answer questions about the war. Having erased his own memories of it though, he liked to ask around and see if anything came back to him.

“Of course I fought in the war. Everyone fought in the war! You didn’t fight in the war?”

“I worked mostly with dragons, Ukrainian Ironbellies; Eastern Front.” Newt relayed most of the information he still had to the man. If he wanted more information, hopefully it would be about the dragons themselves.

However, his attention was caught by an earring lying on top of an automobile. He looked down and saw there were more… They were finally on the trail of the Niffler… He crept quietly along, eyes flitting about the shadows as he looked for the little bugger, Jacob pottering along behind him. 

Something in the shop window that he had just past… Newt paused and backtracked slowly, turning his head to look. The bugger was pretending to be a jewellery stand, arms stretched out and covered in shiny trinkets; Newt stared at the Niffler as a bracelet slowly slid off his arm, and then he was pulling out his wand, muttering “Finestra,” and diving into the shop after him.

The little bugger was as slippery as it ever was, but Newt was determined. He scrambled onto the desk as the Niffler clung to the chandelier, then he was clinging to it as well, both of them spinning as the wizard struggled to get his feet beneath him; thankfully, the chandelier gave way and Newt was back on his feet and hurrying after the Niffler again. They scurried across the desk again, past one case and onto another… the next cabinet couldn’t take their weight though and they tumbled forwards on it, hitting the window. Gasping, Newt stared as the cracks webbed out from the point of contact… if the Niffler got out into the streets of New York, Newt was going to have to take a different approach to catching him; he’d have to leave his case behind with Jacob in the chase. 

As the glass shattered and they both fell, Newt scrambled to grab the troublemaker, but he was too slow; it was off. However, Newt still had his wits about him and he drew out his wand with a cry of “Accio!” 

It worked. The Niffler was unable to dodge the summoning charm and he, with all the jewellery he had taken, began to sail back towards the two men. The bugger was a true troublemaker though, and managed to use the pull of the summoning charm to catapult himself off towards another window; Newt non-verbally transfigured the window into a sticky jelly and it was stuck.

He approached the thing with a scowl on his face, “All right? Happy?” he demanded to know and as he pulled the Niffler out from the window, he felt an odd twinge of sympathy for his parents; he wondered if they got this exasperated when he’d been little and forever running off to go explore somewhere else. Still, they were one step closer to having all his creatures back. “One down, two to go.”

As he busied himself with extracting all the jewels, the muggle Police arrived, firearms out as they approached the two men.

“They went that way Officer.” Jacob quickly spoke up, pointing as Newt stuffed the Niffler into his pocket and tightened his hold on his wand. 

“Hands up!” yelled one of the men, just before another shouted, “What the Hell is that?”

The bloody Niffler was looking for a way to escape again, but Jacob distracted them all by pointing out the lion that was prowling nearby. 

Lions certainly were one of his favourite non-magical creatures and he rather suspected that they may have relations to the Nundu, perhaps dating back to a time when they were as similar to each other as wizards are to muggles. He grinned as he spoke, “You know, New York is considerably more interesting than I’d expected.” But he took advantage of their distraction and disapparated, bringing Jacob, the Niffler and his case along with him. 

“Right…” Jacob stated, his face ashen as he looked around. “Central Park then?”

“Yes please.” Newt gave him a little grin, stuffing the Niffler back in the case along with the trinkets the bugger had brought in the hope that they would keep him distracted.

There was frost on the ground as they headed into the park and plenty of wildlife strutting about, including an ostrich that nearly knocked them over. He was going to have to come and observe these animals sometimes, preferably when he could actually talk to their keepers. Even so, a distant roar made Newt pause to pull out some protective gear… The Erumpent could be friendly, but if the man got in the way of her once Newt started the mating ritual then he could get badly injured. 

“Put this on.”

“Why- why would I have to wear something like this?” Jacob’s face was a mixture of concern and bewilderment. 

Newt decided now was the time to be blunt, he didn’t want to understate the risks and have Jacob end up in a situation that he could have gotten out of. “Because your skull is susceptible to breakage under immense force.”

Then he hurried along, ignoring Jacob’s question of “Is this a good idea?” as they didn’t have all the time in the world to find Dougal either. He was actually a little disappointed that he couldn’t see the creature around here.

“Okay, if you just, uh, pop this on.” He began to fasten the protective breastplate to Jacob’s torso, tugging to check it was properly on.

“Okay.” 

Newt glanced up and noticed the nervous expression, which he rushed to soothe, “Now there’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about.” And he smiled at the man, though it felt a little tight.

“Tell me, has anyone ever believed you when you told them not to worry?” Jacob questioned.

Rather than explaining that he didn’t often bother to reassure people anyway, Newt simply stated “My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice.” After all, many creatures noticed if you got yourself worked up. 

The beast’s snorting was easily audible in the night air as they headed into the zoo itself. “She’s in season. She needs to mate.” The wizard explained, aware that she would be here searching for someone suitable. 

There she was.

She was usually a docile creature, content to graze as she watched what was going on around her. Unfortunately, for all she was friendly even now, her hormones made her clumsy and therefore something of a danger… her over eager enthusiasm knocking what little grace she usually possessed out of her motions entirely. He pulled out a small vial of male erumpent musk; it had a repugnant smell, but it was beyond tempting to her.

“Erumpent musk. She is mad for it.” He explained when he noticed Jacob’s curious glance. 

He dabbed it on, handed the vial to Jacob then grabbed his case and went in. she was pressed up against an enclosure, attempting to woo the animal on the other side which was cowering in fear; but she caught the scent on Newt and held still.

Newt back up slightly, before placing his case down carefully and opening it. He didn’t look away, it was important to catch her attention and make sure she didn’t notice Jacob, who had wandered near with the open vial still in his hands.

He stepped forward and ducked down as he let out a cry for her. She didn’t turn so he slammed is foot into the ground, loud enough that she wouldn’t miss it. He slid his foot back along the ground, pulling her attention firmly over to himself. Ducked down, he waited until her eyes were focussed on him, then he called out again and turned his own body to show her both his back and his arse; the angle had to be right for her to see both, or she would view it as an insult.

She seemed interested and moved away from the hippo to watch him as he snorted and bounced along. He just needed her to start copying him in a display of her own desire. He began to edge closer to his case, rolling quickly across the ground and back to his feet.

She copied.

She fell onto her back, feet from the case and began to wriggle in an effort to entice him.

“Good girl. Come on… into the case.” He breathed as he watched her.

And then she froze, sniffing loudly. Newt frowned at her, perplexed as he rolled away and got to her feet. It was only when he heard a soft “Oh no” that he realised Jacob must have spilt some musk on himself. The man turned and ran, Erumpent in pursuit as Newt was left to stare at the damage she had caused. 

“Repar-” But his wand was stolen by a baboon before he could even finish the spell. “Merlin’s Beard!”

He scrambled over the rubble after the baboon, concerned that the animal would wave it. Wands tended to backfire when waved by those without magic, and he wasn’t sure if animals would be included in that. It wasn’t something he had ever tested. 

He watched as the baboon stopped, looking over the wand curiously. If he could just coax it over then there would be no need for a chase, so he snapped a stick off a nearby branch and held it out, “They’re exactly the same… same thing.” He stared pleadingly at it.

“Newt!” 

Jacob was yelling at him, but the wizard didn’t take his eyes from the baboon. It began to shake his wand and visions of explosion filled his mind, causing him to yelp, “No, no, no, don’t!” but the shaking continued until the wand did backfire and sent the baboon flying.

“I’m so sorry.” He cried to the animal as he turned and ran across the park, down onto the frozen lake. He hit it and threw himself into a slide, opening his case and allowing the charms he had set up pull her back inside… and while she did end up back in, she only narrowly avoided crushing the other man.

They stared at each other for a moment, Jacob’s eyes wide while Newt’s were admittedly amused, he did enjoy a good chase. 

“Good show, Mr Kowalski!” He said happily. He was too used to working on his own to get creatures to have even considered making use of Jacob; with the exception of when they had rescued Frank, the most Alice had ever been willing to do was turn her back and pretend she didn’t see him retrieving different creatures.

The muggle held out a hand, surprisingly steady for the adventure they’d just had. “Call me Jacob.” He corrected, and Newt smiled as he shook the man’s hand.

He hauled Jacob back to his feet and noted, “Well, two down, one to go.” With a relieved grin.

First, he had to go check the Erumpent was in her enclosure. While the items in his shed were charmed to withstand being knocked about, she had likely made a mess inside, so that would likely need tidying up.

“In you hop.” He said to Jacob, allowing the man to step in first.

“Wow.” Jacob sighed as they stepped out the shed and headed into the enclosure.

Newt cocked his head over to the man who was his second ever friend. “What?”

“It’s just pretty swell down here, you know?” Jacob’s eyes were shining fondly about as he turned and pottered over to the Occamies. 

Newt smirked slightly, “I know.” He replied, pleased once again at the genuine interest Jacob had in the creatures he had seen; a fine example of how to react, if only wizards over here were likely to pay attention to a No-Maj. 

There wasn’t too much to do, just a quick check to see the Niffler snoring away in his nest and the Erumpent settling moodily down in hers before flicked his wand about and righted his shed. 

“Just one left then?” Jacob asked as he entered the shed a few minutes later, a smile still set on his face.

“Yes.” Just Dougal to fetch. It was going to be more of a task as the creature hadn’t been near the other two… if he was invisible then it would take more than one night to retrieve him. 

“Let’s go then!”

With that display of enthusiasm, Newt headed back up the ladder… but not out the case. It was stuck.

“It won’t open.”

“What?” Jacob, who had been standing with his hands on the ladder, stepped back to let Newt down.

“Someone’s locked my case.” 

“Who- Wha- … but why?” Jacob asked, struggling to find the right question.

Newt sat heavily down on a bench and gripped his hair with one hand. “I don’t know.” He whispered. 

Jacob sat on the floor by the ladder. “Then, we just need to wait for someone to open it?”

“Yes. I could use magic, but I don’t want to try and remove the magic I’ve set on the locks in case I make a mistake and destabilise the charms that are in the rest of the case.”

“Is that likely?” The man asked, but the concern on his face didn’t seem to be a fear for himself. Newt wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“It’s not something that’s ever been a problem before… but I’ve never been locked inside here before.”

“Can we get out without you doing magic?”

Newt snorted slightly, not actually amused but his nerves forcing the noise. “Yes, I expect so. Dougal’s quite capable of getting out of here, though he doesn’t often try, and the Niffler can work his way through any gap.”

“But you’d rather wait?”

“I have no idea where we are; we could be on the ground, or in the middle of a busy street, or hanging off the side of a building. It’d be best to wait until whoever shut us in here chooses to let us back out.”

Jacob nodded and shifted to lean against a shed wall. Newt shut his eyes and pressed his face into his hands; it had been a very long day. He found travelling by boat uncomfortable at the best of times and rather than resting up afterwards, he’d had to chase after his Niffler, then he’d been arrested… then taken to a stranger’s house and then had had to chase creatures again. Sleep was rather desperately needed at this point, but he wasn’t going to be able to rest while he was locked up like this.

Eventually, there was a knock from the top of the ladder and Newt slowly began to ascend to the top.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sheik is an attractive man.  
> Also, in 1920s America, the 18th Amendment forbid people from making and selling alcohol.

It was more intimidating than the first time he’d been handed a gun and told to try shooting a target, Jacob decided as he stood staring out into the crowd of faces, nearly all set with stern, disapproving looks upon them. 

A British man called out “Scamander?” which caused Newt to startle.

His friend crouched down to shut his case, responding with a hesitant “Oh, er, hello Minister.” Before standing up but hunching in on himself.

“Theseus Scamander? The war hero?” asked someone else, but Jacob turned his attention to the man in question.

“No. This is his little brother.” The first man stated, sounding suspicious. “And what in the name of Merlin are you doing in New York?”

He watched Newt’s hands tighten on his case as he replied “I came to buy an Appaloosa Puffskein, sir.” Jacob focussed on keeping a blank face, remembering that the ‘real reason’ was hidden inside that case… surrounded by the most vicious creatures on the planet. He’d found the animals swell and the thought of these people hurting them was enough to keep his own tendency to babble under control.

“Right.” This minister squinted at Newt even more suspiciously and Jacob watched the young man struggle to keep his head up under the scrutiny. “What are you really doing here?”

There was a moment’s silence where Newt’s courage dropped and he scowled at the floor without answering, then a tall woman with dark skin and a regal bearing stepped forwards. The soft murmurings around the hall stopped as she commanded everyone’s attention.

“Goldstein… and who is this?” The woman’s eyes looked him over and Jacob acknowledged that he felt distinctly inadequate in her presence.

“This is Jacob Kowalski, Madam President.” Tina’s voice shook more than it ever had in the short time Jacob had known her. The change in the confident woman gave the man an idea of how powerful this woman must be. “He’s a No-Maj who got bitten by one of Mr Scamander’s creatures.”

There was a sudden burst of noise around them, anger rippling through the air and Jacob flinched as he stood stock still, gaze firmly on the floor.

“Merlin’s Beard!” He heard Newt yelp, and Jacob lifted his eyes enough to look at his friend.

“You know which of your creatures was responsible, Mr Scamander?” The Lady President asked, her cool tone making Jacob shudder slightly. He could see everyone looking up; he caught a slight glimpse of something silvery floating above his head…

“No creature did this… don’t pretend!” Newt’s voice was harsher than it generally was and Jacob finally tilted his head back enough to see what they were looking at. There was a body floating above them, limp and lifeless as it drifted. “You must know what that was, look at the marks…”

Jacob startled slightly as he recognised the silvery figure as Senator Shaw, face torn up badly enough that he was glad the image was not in regular colour. 

“That was an Obscurus.” Newt stated softly, his gaze following the figure.

Objections followed, though none sterner than the magical president’s, “You go too far, Mr Scamander. There is no Obscurial in America.” Her expression was fierce as she stood tall over them. “Impound that case, Graves.”

There was magic in the air as the suitcase flew off to the side and Newt began to shout his objections, his wand flying through the air and over to Graves. Jacob found himself on his knees as the president ordered their arrest and beside him Tina was breathing hard; along from her, Newt was begging for his creatures’ safety… As they knelt before cold, stern expressions, Newt’s pleading was painful to hear. 

“You don’t understand! Nothing in there is dangerous! Nothing!” Jacob hung his head as Newt’s cries fell on deaf ears. As they were pulled away and taken from the room, Newt’s voice cracked with panic as he begged for his much loved creatures. 

The wands that were jabbed into their backs served well to keep both Jacob and Tina quiet, the two Americans shuffling along in silence as their friend was literally dragged into the elevator. Jacob kept his head down, wishing he could think of something comforting to say as one of the wizards pulling them finally reached the end of his patience and told Newt to shut up; the muggle could feel the scorch of Newt’s glare even as he kept his eyes down. 

However, by the time they had been locked up and left alone, Newt’s fire had died. He was slumped over in a corner, misery rolling from him as he stared blankly at his hands. Tina crouched down beside Jacob, looking him up and down as she tried to smile at him, “You okay?”

He nodded his head, wanting to rail at her for getting them pinched but unable to do so when he caught the devastated look on her face. She’d only been following the rules, he reminded himself, she’d brought all of Newt’s wonderful animals to these unaccepting people only because someone was dead. 

Tina stood up and turned to look at the tall, skinny man who had curled himself up as though trying to hide from them. “I’m so sorry about your creatures, Mr Scamander. I truly am.” But Newt didn’t reply. 

Jacob remembered him stating that humans were the most dangerous creatures on the planet and Tina had handed all of fantastic creatures over to a government that didn’t seem to have the slightest interest in them. It had to be the poor guy’s worst nightmare… Once again, Jacob had to remind himself of the dead senator, someone had died so of course this upright and law-abiding woman had done what she thought best to protect their city. 

“Can someone please tell me what this Obscurial Obscurius thing is, please?” He whispered to Tina, remembering the floating blob in Newt’s case. The man had pulled him away, but had failed to explain anything about what it was. 

Tina looked over at him, concern etched into her face, “There hasn’t been one for centuries.”

“I met one in Sudan three months ago.” Newt interrupted, his voice was also soft, but it had a different feel to it, filled with an anguish deeper than both Jacob’s, who had only just met the fabulous beasts, and Tina’s, who hadn’t even seen them before handing them over to a hall full of people. “There used to be more of them, but they still exist. Before wizards went underground, when we were still being hunted by muggles, young witches and wizards sometimes tried to suppress their magic to avoid persecution. Instead of learning to harness or control their powers they developed what was called an Obscurus.”

Jacob shuddered slightly as he thought of people so filled with hatred that they were unable to accept even themselves. He considered the woman who stood outside the bank and shouted about witches; he couldn’t imagine hating magic so much that he felt the need to frighten others. Even the knowledge that some… thing… had killed the senator… well, men killed each other all the time in any number of gruesome ways, they needed no magic for that. 

“It’s an unstable, uncontrollable dark force that bursts out and, and attacks! And then vanishes…” Tina fell silent, her eyes widening as she looked over at Newt. “Obscurials can’t survive long, can they?”

“There’s no documented case of any Obscurial surviving past the age of ten.” Newt told her as Jacob’s mind worked through the information he had. The thing that had killed the senator had been some terrified child? “The one I met in Africa was eight when she… she was eight when she died.”

“What are you telling me here? That Senator Shaw was killed by a – by a kid?” Jacob asked in horror, still struggling to gather everything together. Newt cast a solemn glance in his direction and Jacob let out a long breath; a child did that?

“Wait, a dark force?” he spoke up again, recalling rumours that had been drifting of a storm cloud with eyes that had been causing havoc, people unsure whether it was true or not, whether it was a symptom of drink, or of a demon. “Not… not gas pipes?”

“No. What has been going on in your city hasn’t been the result of problems with any kind of technology.” 

“But that… Obscurial thing was still in your case.” He objected, thoughts of a dark force ruining New York made him shiver. 

“The Obscurus was still in my case when I last had it, though if they’ve gone through and have released it from my preservation spell… but that host…” Newt stumbled again, and Jacob recognised the guilt in his expression when he spoke of the little girl. “Well, she’s been too long dead for it to draw any more power. It’ll dissipate too quickly to cause any trouble.”

“You think there’s another one here?” Tina stated, her voice resigned as she sat heavily down on the floor, shaking slightly in the chill of the dungeon.

“If they acknowledge it.” Newt pressed his face into his knees. “Governments often looks for the simplest explanations so that everything can go back to normal.”

“Mr Graves won’t.” Tina stated confidently, managing to give them both a slight smile when they looked to her. “He knows you’ve only just got here and he’ll want to track down what’s really going on.”

“Maybe.” Newt replied, but the smile was falling off his face again. 

“I’m so sorry about your creatures.” Tina stated again, but her earnest expression was apparently too much for the young man, who turned away from her.

Jacob frowned slightly, “What do you mean? Won’t they let you look after them while they do this investigation? They’re alive, they’ll need feeding.” His mind drifted to the Occamies, to the Mooncalves, to all the other lovely inhabitants.

“He doesn’t have a permit for them in this country.” Tina began, but Newt cut in.

“They’ll destroy them. This country has no respect for the creatures that inhabit this land alongside them.” He turned back to glare at Tina, his face far more fierce than Jacob had seen yet. “It’s almost impossible to get a permit because they are so suspicious.”

“We have people preachin’ on street corners about the existence of witches and how to ought to be burned at the stake!” Tina’s voice was rising now, the stress of their situation getting to them; Jacob wished he hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t good at arguing, he didn’t like raised voices… his struggle to raise his own voice in response was probably part of the reason Mildred had left him after he’d failed in the bank yesterday…

Yesterday felt like a lifetime ago, he acknowledged as the other two continued to bicker. It was only one day ago that he’d been failed to speak up for himself well enough to Mr Bingley to agree to help him out, one day since Mildred had told him that if he couldn’t contribute to a happy family life, then she was going to look elsewhere… and he had been unable to ask her to give him another chance… One long day since the Occamy had hatched, looked up at Jacob and had pulled him into this world of magic.

“What’s gonna happen to us?” He wondered aloud, wishing he could go home, sleep and have a good think about everything,

“You’ll be Obliviated.” Tina said, trying for a smile but it held no joy. 

“And I’ll forget everything.” 

There was silence as he absorbed this devastating fact; he’d not be allowed any of this anymore. He’d forget Tina and Newt and the Occamies… he’d forget the funny little Niffler and the lustful Erumpent… Worst of all, he’d forget the most stunning woman he’d ever met, Queenie. 

It tore at his heart to think he’d never know her smile again, never taste her cooking, and yet… yet there was a part of him that was almost relieved. The idea of falling in love again, especially while his mind still filled with Mildred… They’d had a blast, once; Mildred and himself. They’d gone out and drank alcohol from flasks, giggling at their proximity to policemen, they’d gone dancing and laughed at her mother’s horror… But drinking and dancing and laughing weren’t the same as having a stable job and raising a family. The thought of doing it all over again with someone new, even someone as fabulous as Queenie…

Well, he was no catch; he had a dull job, no living family and, come whenever they took his memory, no friends. Queenie had magic! She could cook and sew and smile, she had a job and a home, a sister and… he pulled his mind back. For all he knew, Queenie had a sheik of her own, some swell guy who hadn’t been taken in off the streets just because he’d gotten bitten by some foreigner’s pet.

Tina and Newt were still quiet, their faces matching with the almost frightened expressions that they both wore.

“What about you guys?” It dawned on him that Tina had only answered part of his question. “What’ll happen to you?”

“I don’t know.” Tina wrapped her arms around her own body, visibly trying to collect herself. “I… Well, it depends. If they acknowledge that none of Mr Scamander’s creatures are responsible, then he should be fined and sent back to England. And me… I’ll probably have to join Queenie in making coffee.”

She looked so miserable at this that Jacob almost left it there, but he wanted to know. “What if they don’t?” 

“I’ll be fined and fired… Mr Scamander…” she gave him a scared glance before looking back at the floor. “When it comes to foreign wizards, it often depends who shouts the loudest. If he was American then he’d be tried according to our laws and executed, but the British put people with the Dementors, which suck people’s souls out. He… Hopefully Mr Graves will be allowed to do a proper investigation and he’ll just be sent away.”

There was silence for a moment as Jacob stared at her, horror making his chest ache as he shared Tina’s hope. “They- your soul? Wha- What’s left?”

“Just the body.” Newt replied, his voice so soft it was difficult to hear. “Heart still beating but there’s no person left.”

“What happens to the soul? Does it… move on?” Would he get to Heaven, or be stuck in a dark limbo until Judgement Day?

“They feed off the soul…” Newt said after another long silence. “I don’t think… I don’t think it can survive that. When Dementors are banished, they… well, even when they… die, though no one has ever been able to determine how alive they are, but when you come across their husk, it’s just that; an empty husk and a fetid cloak.”

Tina let out a whimper, hands clamped over her mouth as her eyes widened. “Executioners.” She whispered, her voice muffled as two people made their way over. 

“Miss Goldstein, Mr Scamander, if you’ll come this way.”

The cell was opened and neither of the magical authority folk looked to Jacob, rightfully dismissing him as no threat to them. Newt and Tina looked pale and dreadfully young as they stepped out and accepted the shackles. Even though there was nothing he could do, Jacob staggered to his own feet as the cell was locked again, watching them lead his friends away.

“It was good to make your acquaintance, Jacob.” Newt called back in an almost casual voice. “And I hope you get your bakery.”

They disappeared but Jacob stayed where he was, trying desperately to etch Newt firmly in his mind; thoughts of soul sucking creatures and executions kept straying through, and the thought that he would never see the bright young man again made him want to retch. The thought of having his memory scrubbed was, as it had been when he’d thought of Queenie, a blessing and a curse. 

“Friendship.” He whispered to the empty darkness after a while and far too late for the other man to hear him. “We’re friends, not acquaintances.”

And he wondered if Newt was even still around to correct.

***

Gellert composed himself as the door to the interrogation room opened and the workers led both Miss Goldstein and Mr Scamander inside; he tried not to look too eager. As the boy was pushed into the seat before him, Gellert looked him over; he was a healthy looking young man, slender and tanned, if a little awkward already.

During the Great War, he had taken the chance to further his study of both death and life. Death had been abundant; muggles killing muggles, wizards joining in as their attachments to the muggles dragged them into the fighting. But it was life that made a real difference, life that influenced people. A fear of their own death certainly gave people hesitations, but the love of life was typically stronger. Or perhaps it was a combination of the two, both one and the other. He didn’t mean a love of life in some frivolous manner, but life - in a general sense that was somewhat mundane and typical, people going about their business, but more specifically he meant life as in children. People didn’t fear their own death half as much as they feared for their offspring, the muggles had gone to war to keep their mundane lives as dull as ever, to protect the children they left behind; in realising this, Gellert had formed a plan.

To say he wanted children of his own would not be an entirely accurate statement. However, as with everything in his life, the thought of children led Gellert back to Albus Dumbledore; to say he wanted children with the other man was decidedly more true, even more so now than it had been a decade earlier. Now it had been more than twenty five years since Ariana’s death, since the breath of a kiss that didn’t quite happen had ghosted across his lips; he still felt its absence keenly. To have a child with Albus would be a means to the end of getting the man to walk through this life with him once more; although he did concede the idea that a child would likely become a larger part of his life than a simple part of a plan. Something created from both himself and Albus? He would likely get attached. 

These days, Albus Dumbledore had settled into life as a teacher, educating young minds to hone their magic and likely never thinking about their plans to integrate wizard and muggle society for their betterment. Gellert was brilliant in many ways, but he acknowledged that this was one area in which he needed help; he had no real understanding of muggles and their peculiarities, he was better with those in Europe, where the majority of muggles turned a blind eye to anything unusual, but in America he had learned that the muggles were far more paranoid… far easier to manipulate. 

And so Gellert was in an uncomfortable position of having two plans, one he had developed with the acceptance that Albus may never agree to be near him again, but the other involved him deeply. The former was the one he was working on, starting a war with the American No-Maj society and forcing the wizards to show themselves… but his favoured plan was no longer an impossibility and before him, hunched up and staring blankly at his hands, sat the key. 

Every story he had heard of Albus Dumbledore in recent years suggested that he was perfectly happy at Hogwarts School, unlikely to remove himself from the comfortable setting where his life was a regular, assured cycle. Therefore, Gellert had decided years ago that the best way to shake him up would be to give him someone to teach that would cause him to leave; a child of his own to raise and love. However, Gellert’s love was a jealous one and he refused to see some woman lie with the man, even if it was for the Greater Good, to bring the man back to Gellert’s side and ready to focus on freeing themselves from secrecy. 

Consequently, he began to work with researchers who had notes and theories which were only in the first, very basic stages of development. In the time after Albus began his work as a teacher up until the end of the war, when wizards unfortunately found and dismantled both of his facilities, Gellert had funded and encouraged the men running the facilities in their work; in their quest to allow men to bear children. 

The Great War had allowed him far more ease in collecting subjects to test their work on, but it had been soldiers who had stumbled across his facilities twice, wizards of course, but those fighting muggle wars nonetheless. His work on the possibility of giving Albus children had come to a complete halt and Gellert had mourned the chance to reunite with the man he loved. Eventually, he decided to set wizardkind free anyway, he would force the muggles to accept them or die and… he did rather hope that eventually, Albus would realise how needed he was and so would return to Gellert’s side.

But now, unexpectedly, he had sitting before him one of the two subjects who had survived. Scamander would be unable to recognise him through the polyjuice, unaware that he was anyone but Percival Graves… and he had a decision to make. Did he drop his plan to make war, steal the boy away and see whether or not he could conceive? He thought of Graves, held captive just outside the city; he could force the two to mate and see if the work done on the boy had been successful; there no need to include others and no need for Gellert to become intimate with anyone other than Albus… 

If it hadn’t worked, he would need to explain himself to Picquery, find some reason why Graves would want to steal some trembling wizard away from MACUSA, never to be seen again. If it did work, he would need time to prepare his own body, then find some way to reach Albus; once by his side, Gellert was confident that he could seduce the other man, even if only for one night. He’d perhaps need to disguise himself as someone else and hide in Hogsmeade until the Transfiguration teacher visited the village. 

But if anything went wrong… was it worth the high risk of ruining his plan to make war for the chance to have a child with Albus? In his heart, he wanted to say yes, to say he would leave everything behind for a chance to live with Albus, to explore life and death… for a chance to master Death with Albus by his side. He already had the Elder Wand, having taken it from the wand maker nearly twenty years ago; surely with Albus, he could discover the others and together they could master Death. However, in his mind, logic warred with desire.

As he sat in the silence of the interrogation room, the prisoners both squirming uncomfortably at the length of it, Gellert imagined Albus handing the Cloak of Invisibility over to their son before they accepted Death together… And it would, of course, be Albus who mastered Death. He was more intelligent than Gellert, more charming, more patient… he would be able to keep them hidden from Death, protected by the Wand and strengthened by the Stone.

But the Stone made him think of Ariana, the girl who had died because she had feared muggles witnessing her magic. Muggles had frightened her so badly that she had killed Albus’ mother; another reason why their societies should exist together. Credence Barebone was going to encounter an Obscurial, as he had seen in his forages into divination and this person's own magical force would wreak havoc through New York, Ariana had been another… and inside Scamander’s case, he had found a preserved Obscurus – evidence of yet another child who had been frightened into rejecting their magic. It was enough to make a man spit with anger that wizards, the superior species, were having to cower and hide themselves away from muggles. 

The reminder spurred him on. He had to think of the Greater Good and as nice as it would be to settle down and raise a family with Albus, wizards needed him to expose them; they were paralysed with fear, but he would show the muggles why they ought to be the ones trembling. 

“You’re an interesting man, Mr Scamander.” He stated at last, startling the young man slightly.

“Mr Graves.” Goldstein’s face was pale, her expression far less confident than it had been when they had first entered. He shushed her, like a parent halting the excuses of a misbehaving child. 

“You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life with a beast.” He stated, as he ignored Scamander’s protests and continued on, examining the file before him as though he didn’t know every word. “Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?”

Gellert stared intently at the young man, genuinely curious why this young man had gained Albus’ favour. Scamander curled smaller in his chair, “I really couldn’t say.” He claimed as he avoided eye contact.

Gellert didn’t push the matter. He could press until Scamander told him the truth or else he could force the boy’s head up and pick the answers out of his head, but he simply moved on. He had to focus on the Greater Good, not Albus.

“So setting a pack of dangerous creatures loose here was just another accident, is that right?” 

“Why would I do it deliberately?”

“To expose wizardkind. To provoke war between the magical and non-magical worlds.” Was it a possibility? He had clearly come across an Obscurial, seen first-hand the devastation that the muggle community enforced and perhaps he would understand.

The look on Scamander’s face suggested he didn’t, but his words, “Mass slaughter for the Greater Good, you mean?” implied that the boy might know more than he wanted to about the injustice of keeping their magic hidden.

“Yes, quite.”

“I’m not one of Grindelwald’s fanatics, Mr Graves.” The boy claimed, his soft voice now confidently condemning himself as useless to Gellert’s current plans with his rude words.

Gellert fought back a scowl as he retrieved the Obscurus that had been existing inside Scamander’s case. “I wonder what you can tell me about this, Mr Scamander.” 

The dark force truly was a fascinating thing, and he wondered if the host was still alive and able to use magic… or if this _thing_ was the embodiment of their magic and the host was a squib without it. 

“It’s an Obscurus, but it’s not what you think.” Scamander was looking back at Goldstein’s shocked face. “I managed to separate it from the Sudanese girl as I tried to save her. I wanted to take it home, to study it – But it cannot survive outside that box. It could not hurt anyone, Tina.”

The young man was pleading with his friend, but Gellert took note of the fact that he had tried to save the girl. It only fuelled his resolve; it was wrong to hide from muggles when this was something so completely integral to who they were that the separation from it would kill them. 

“So it’s useless without the host?” which was a shame. He wouldn’t need Barebone to hunt amongst the children if he had had an Obscurus ready to use with him now. In fact, if he had been able to take this one with him, preserved until it was needed then he could have spent some time trying to retrieve Albus, but no matter…

“Useless? _Useless_? That is a parasitical magical force that killed a child? What on Earth would you use it for?” Misery and fear had finally given way to anger, proving once again that love of life, especially the life of a child was a far better way to influence someone than a fear of their own death.

There was something in the boy’s eyes now, a calculating look that showed, even without resorting to legilimency, that Scamander was starting to realise there was something off about the Director of Magical Security. He pressed the blame back to Scamander, stopping the young man before he could question anything in front of the two executioners. 

“You fool nobody, Mr Scamander. You brought this Obscurus into the city of New York in the hope of causing mass disruption, breaking the Statute of Secrecy and revealing the magical world-”

“You know that can’t hurt anyone! You know that!” Scamander raised his voice, eyes widening as he realised he was being condemned. 

“You are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow wizards and are sentenced to death. Miss Goldstein, who has aided and abetted you-”

“No! She’s done nothing of the kind!” Scamander objected, but Goldstein had always been too observant, too aware of the differences between himself and Graves even when they were identical.

“She receives the same sentence.”

Without a word, the executioners stepped forwards, wand tips pressed against the necks of the prisoners. 

“Just do it immediately. I will inform President Picquery myself.”

“Tina…” Scamander’s voice was far softer than it had been, but filled with regret.

“Shh…” Gellert hushed him, shooing them out the room.

Silently, the two were led away and the door swung shut on the last hope Gellert had had for reconciling with Albus. Anger bubbled inside as he pressed his hands into his face and resisted the urge to yell; how was he supposed to find happiness without the man that he loved?

Breathing hard, he began to fill in the paperwork, forcing his hand to write neatly and not ruin the paper. The Greater Good was a difficult goal and he had to acknowledge that perhaps his own happiness would not be possible at the end. 

“Not _impossible_ though.” He whispered through clenched teeth.

And it wasn’t. He had one of the three Hallows, finding the other two wasn’t impossible; he may be able to live long enough to find happiness outside Albus Dumbledore, even if he was unable to visualise anything to do with this lonely joy… He focussed again on the paper in front of him, he’d get this done, talk to Picquery, have a cup of tea and check in with Barebone.

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.” He murmured, dipping his quill in his ink again. “Date of birth: 20th April 1900. Son of…”

***

The background fear had been piling up and up, but now it was rapidly becoming a panic and Queenie dropped the tray of drinks that she had been carrying as she realised what was happening to her sister.

They were going to kill Tina! She turned and ran from the meeting room, hurrying towards the main lobby. She needed a plan, any plan! She needed to do something!

As she looked around, Sam exited the elevator with Jacob following behind. She dashed over and Jacob met her eyes; she could have sagged with relief as she realised that he hadn’t had his memory wiped yet. 

“Hey Sam.” She called as she stepped up to the men.

He only glanced at her. “Hey Queenie.”

“They need you downstairs. I’ll Obliviate this guy.” 

He immediately thought she was aiming for a promotion, Tina’s drop in pay drifting through his mind as he scowled at her, “You ain’t qualified.” But his eyes drifted across to the women nearby and she was more than happy to use the information she picked up, both from reading minds and from gossip.

“Hey Sam, does Cecily know you been seeing Ruby?” She asked as innocently as she could manage. 

Sam gaped at her before nervously returning Ruby’s smile. “How’d you…?”

“Let me Obliviate this guy and she’ll never hear about it from me.”

It really was too easy sometimes, she mused as Sam hurried off and she began to march Jacob back through the lobby.

“What are you doing’?” Jacob looked nervous, and she saw the fear he had for Newt clear as day in his thoughts. Tina had apparently told Jacob that she’d probably be demoted again, as though that was the worst they would do to her.

“Shh!! Teen’s in trouble. I’m trying to listen.” They had a close bond and a lifetime of Tina letting Queenie in and out of her head as she pleased meant it was easier to tap into her mind without having her there. Their mom’s voice drifted through her mind, jarring her back slightly as she realised they’d already retrieved her happy memories. The fear had been suddenly muted and changed into a vague contentment with nostalgia mixing through. “Jacob, where’s Newt’s case?”

He frowned for a moment as he thought, fear for Tina now starting to permeate his mind, “I think that Graves guy took it.”

“Okay.” They’d just have to go get it from his office. “Come on.”

Jacob cocked his head slightly. “What, you’re not gonna Obliviate me?”

She grinned at him as best she could with Tina’s muted happiness in the back of her mind. “Of course not, you’re one of us now!”

He gave her a stunned look before following her, one that left her feeling a little flushed; it had been nothing to do with her appearance and everything to do with her own self. 

“Come on. I’d rather not take the elevator and have Red know where we are.”

Jacob made an agreeing hum and they hurried along, neither wanting to be spotted breaking the Director’s office.

“It’s just this one.” She whispered, trying the door. “Locked.”

“Do you have a key?” Jacob asked, the different creatures in Newt’s case flitting across his mind, closely followed by concern for them.

“No.” She pulled out her wand, hoping his didn’t have any alarm spells set up. “Alohomora. Aberto!”

But nothing happened, she glared at the lock as Jacob kept an eye out.

She couldn’t help growling “Ugh, he would know a fancy spell to lock his office!” before glancing around, trying to think of something else. 

“So he has… stronger magic? Or is it just that there’s one spell that needs using here?” 

“Could be either. Though, he is a very strong wizard.” She sighed and looked at the barrier. They really needed to hurry. “I’d try a blasting jinx if I didn’t think it’d backfire.”

“Here.” Jacob tugged her back slightly and stepped in between her and the door. “Let me try a bit of muggle magic.”

She giggled softly, “You mean No-Maj.” But she stepped back all the same.

“Newt says muggle.” He replied, glancing back at her for a moment. 

“That’s cos he’s British. You’re American.” And she grinned at him, the light-hearted chatter helping to calm her down.

“Oh.” But then Jacob kicked the door and it smashed open, banging back.

Muggle magic, she thought as she grinned slightly. Magical folk didn’t tend to bother with brute force and apparently didn’t even think to charm against it. She slipped inside and grabbed the case; her sister’s wand was there too, but Newt’s wasn’t. She frowned slightly, glancing quickly about. It wasn’t in easy sight. She went to try a few drawers, but they were locked and she didn’t want to hang around.

Mentally apologising to the wizard, Queenie hurried out without it. 

“Oh!” she startled as she stepped outside, Tina’s mind had just flooded with hope! It hadn’t expelled the fear, but Queenie grinned and began running for the stairs. “Come on, we’re not too late yet.”

Down the stairs they went and marched smartly into the Death Cell Corridor, trying to look confident. There was an alarm going off so the wizards hurrying past weren’t paying much attention to them.

“You know where we’re going?”

“Yeah, just down here.” They made all new members of MACUSA tour the building, letting them glimpse the Death Cells; it worked well as a deterrent for any serious crimes people might want to commit, showing the consequences to people before the thoughts had even occurred to them.

“Oh!” Tina yelped as they narrowly avoided walking into each other. 

Queenie took a moment, her eyes flitting over Tina’s face as she took in every nuance of her appearance, her mind sailing through her sister’s as she checked the other woman was all right.

Reassured for the moment, she showed them Newt’s case. “Get in!” and none of them argued. “Wait, here you go, Tina. Sorry, Newt. I couldn’t find your wand.”

As Tina accepted her wand back gratefully and clambered after Jacob into the case, Newt sighed unhappily, “Don’t worry. I have this one that I picked up on our way out. I don’t have much luck with wands that aren’t my own though, so I’ll try not need to use it.”

He turned to get in, then paused.

“Thank you.”

She knew he meant for more than turning up to help. The love he had for his creatures was almost overwhelming. 

“You’re welcome.”

She shut the case after him then hurried off back upstairs. The lobby was bustling with people and she scuttled quickly off to grab her coat from the cloakroom, trying not to flinch as Mr Graves stormed past her, unguarded enough that she could feel panic penetrating his mind. 

“Queenie!” She jumped, turning in what she hoped was a casual move as she looked over at Abernathy. “Where you going?”

“I’m… I’m sick, Mr Abernathy.” He was decidedly sweet on her and not even in a lecherous way, but he really wasn’t her type. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t deliberately fluster him to get her own way though. 

“Again?” It had actually been a while since she’d last been sick, but she typically managed to get out of his way fast enough when she was feeling well. “Well, what’ve you got in there?”

Mercy Lewis, she didn’t need this! She racked her brains for a moment, “Ladies’ things!” she exclaimed before hurrying over. “You wanna take a look? I don’t mind.”

“Oh, Good Gravy! No!” As snappy as he tended to get with Tina, he was actually a gentleman most of the time, the two often set each other off. “I – You get well now!”

She fixed his tie, watching all the thoughts fly from his mind as he noted how close she was. “Thanks!” she smiled and pressed on, out the building. From the doorstep, just out of view of any passing No-Maj, she disapparated back home.

“Tina? Jacob? Newt?” she called as she opened the case and leaned over to look down. 

“Hey. I’ll go get them.” Tina smiled up at her. “They went off to feed the things in here, I think.”

“Nah, I’ll come down.” 

The girls headed through and Queenie grinned as she saw the place that had been on Jacob’s mind.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” Newt smiled at her, a more genuine expression than he had managed so far. 

“It’s pretty big in here.” She noted as she looked out over the mini environments. 

Newt grinned again, his creatures helping to relax him after a stressful time. “I’ve been in bigger ones, but this is the best my magic can produce.”

“Couldn’t you get someone to help make it bigger for you?” Tina asked, stepping closer to Queenie and pressing close to her. Queenie had no qualms about wrapping her arms around her sister.

“Well, I could but, er, it’d be a waste of time unless they were going to travel with me. Every time I need to tweak one of the areas, it snaps back to what my own magic can make.”

“What do you mean?” Jacob asked, and Queenie smiled as she saw how he was genuinely trying to listen to and understand everything about their world.

“Well, this case is attuned to my magic. Theseus, my brother, helped me to design it, but I had to make it myself. If he had made it with me, then he would need to be here every time I wanted to change everything.” He frowned slightly, and she could tell he was trying to decide if his words had been clear enough. “No one can change anything in here, except for me because I made it. If anyone else tries to fiddle with my magic then it won’t work. If they’re weaker than me then nothing will happen and if they’re more powerful then all they’ll do is break the charm and end up crushed under all my creatures on top of a ruined and wholly unremarkable case.”

“So it’s strong… but delicate and only you can find the balance?” Jacob asked and Queenie couldn’t help but thrill at how quickly he was picking things up.

“Put simply, yes.” Newt smiled briefly, but then he looked up at her. “Where are we?”

“At our apartment.”

“Is it safe to be here?” He asked, and she heard him note in his own mind that it was an obvious place to go.

She looked around at them. “Where else can we hide? They know where Tina and me live… and they probably know where you live.” She added, glancing at Jacob.

“Would they come up to the rooftops?” and for a moment, she saw a young boy hiding from the world as he sat on his grandfather’s knee and looked out over the city, the deep rumble of the man’s voice a comfort even though the words were indistinguishable.

“Good idea.” She smiled. “You guys stay in here. Hey, can I look again?”

Jacob nodded and this time she took note of where exactly she was going. Hugging her sister again, she trotted out and disapparated. 

“To the roof.” She murmured, hurrying up the stairs and pointing her wand to unlock the door.

Once up, she locked the door and opened the case. The other three scrambled out and she stepped back as they began to move about, taking a moment to actually relax.

“Your grandfather kept pigeons?” she asked as she followed Jacob into the shed. “Mine bred owls, I used to love feeding ‘em.”

“Owls?” Jacob looked up, a smile spreading across his face. “I don’t know anyone who keeps owls.”

“Oh, plenty of witches and wizards have at least one owl in the family. We use ‘em to send letters.” Not that she and Tina had one, no need when their family was all dead and they had no close friends to write to. Their friends from Ilvermorny had kind of fallen away after graduation and everyone had settled into their own lives.

“Don’t they get lost?” 

“Nah, owls are real clever.”

“Magic, right?” But his grin was so wide that she couldn’t help laughing. 

“Right.” She thought for a moment. “Well, maybe. I’ve never thought about it. No-Majs know about them so maybe not.”

“I’ll ask Newt.” Jacob said with a softer smile. He had a new-found fondness for animals that he’d never expected.

“Queenie? Jacob?” Tina stood in the doorway. “We’ve had an idea of where to go.”

“Where?” Jacob stood up and stepped out of his shed.

Queenie looked at her sister and grinned, she enjoyed getting dressed up for an evening. “Dark business in an evil part of the city.” She teased.

“What?” Jacob looked startled.

“We’re going to talk to a goblin in a Speakeasy. Come on.” Tina rolled her eyes as she headed back over to Newt, who was looking down at his feet with a slither of a smile on his lips. 

“Not quite the underworld then?” Jacob raised his brow with another grin. 

She laughed and replied, “You might be surprised.”

***

There was an owl hooting nearby, having likely stopped by to deliver a letter. He wondered if it was supposed to have been delivered to him, or if it was actually intended for his imposter. Once or twice, owls had arrived here with letters for the Director of Magical Security and sometimes those letters went to Grindelwald. 

It was cold though, the condensation on the small window at the top of the room beginning to freeze over again. 

“Isn’t it just typical,” Grindelwald had returned, a sneer fixed on his pale face as he stormed over to Graves and yanked a hair out, “you make a sacrifice for the Greater Good and the condemned prisoners escape.”

Percival startled, but he turned his attention to the monster in the room.

“Who?” he croaked, throat painfully dry but he wanted to know who had been condemned to death by a madman wearing his face.

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander and Porpentina Esther Goldstein. I do wish troublemakers would have shorter names, don’t you?”

Tina? He’d sentenced Tina to death? She was a young auror whose skills were constantly improving; when she managed to keep herself quiet, she generally took in an awful lot of what was going on around her. She must have seen through Grindelwald’s act.

“No matter. When the aurors catch him, they will kill him. Can’t risk hanging onto someone who set an Obscurus loose on the city just because he’d from England, right?”

Scamander… Percival frowned, keeping his head tucked into his chest even as Grindelwald turned and left the room. Scamander… Theseus’ brother? He cast his mind back, trying to think of what he knew about the younger brother.

Not a lot… Theseus was a chatty man, but his words were never about anything personal. However, Percival had met Newton before. They’d pulled him out of a research centre that had been posing as a hospital, one of two survivors. They’d suspected that the facilities had belonged to Grindelwald at the time, but there had been no solid proof to verify this. 

Newton had been a skinny, quiet lad who had clung to him. He tried to remember how young the boy had been, seventeen? Eighteen? Trauma often warped a person’s appearance, making their age difficult to guess. 

He hadn’t seemed like a troublemaker at the time, but his personality had likely been subdued inside that place. The other man they had found there had been older, but even worse off; entirely hollow in a way that had made Percival shudder.

Theseus had never mentioned Newton to him again after his brother had been taken to St. Mungo’s in London, but that didn’t give any indication of what might have happened to the boy as he wasn’t a close friend of the British auror.

Maybe he was only a troublemaker in so much as he had realised there was something wrong with the supposed Director of Magical Security; Theseus was a sharp man, it stood to reason that his brother would have some intelligence about him.

Percival shifted just his body as he tried to sleep, wrists too weighed down by the shackles to budge. They were in winter, but he wondered what month it was… even with a slight glimpse though one small window into the outside world, he felt like he had been down here for a lifetime.

He could only hope that things would soon be coming to a head. The moment Grindelwald had sentenced Newton to death, he had changed things; the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t sit around and do nothing as a British wizard was killed, especially if there was no official trial to condemn the young man, which there hadn’t been time for, unless Grindelwald had kept this particular bit of information under wraps. It didn’t seem likely.

Percival sighed and shifted again. There was no need to get himself worked up anyway, he was useless to MACUSA at the moment anyway.

He could do nothing but hope.


End file.
